1 1  - 

I 

> 

V 

y ' 

la 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/effieiorsevenyeaOOIiilbiala 


EFFIE  AND  I; 


OR, 


SEVEN  TEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL. 


A  ©^(DIET  (DIF  '^mn  ©3>IIS!®IL.Ig  ©E^T. 


BY 

MRS.  CHARLOTTE   S.  HILBOURNE. 


t^c><i>r^jig^X£>^3^- 


CAMBRIDGE: 

PRINTED    BY    ALLEN    AND    FARNHAM. 

18  63. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

MRS.   CHARLOTTE   S.  HILBOURNE, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THIS 


LITTLE    VOLUME 


18     MOST      RESPECTFULLY      INSCKIBED 


OWNERS    AND     OPERATIVES    OF   COTTON    MILLS, 


THE   AUTHOR. 


2200587 


KATE  STANTON'S  PREFACE. 


Dear  Public  : 

Rosa  was  going  to  tell  you  in  a  preface,  liow  she  got 
her  "  Cotton  Mill "  started.  But,  I  said,  not  a  bit  of  it, 
Rosa,  for  it  will  take  my  '  World '  and  all  the  power  and 
magic  of  my  pen,  to  do  justice  to  those  kind  Cambridge 
gentlemen,  who  furnished  the  capital  for  that  little  work- 
shop. 

My  "  World  "  will  get  a  jog  by-and-by,  and  some  will 
find  themselves  in  the  shadow,  and  some  in  the  broad 
golden  sunlight,  right  beside  those  good  Cambridge  gen- 
tlemen, only  a  good  way  behind,  and  some  will  go  to 
verdure.  So,  Mr.  Public,  if  you  want  to  find  yourself  in 
a  favorable  light,  and  conspicuous  place,  just  be  liberal  in 
patronizing  the  firm  of  "  Effie  and  I"  and  Co.„  in  their 
travels  through  Uncle  Sam's  domains.  It  is  just  the 
book  for  everybody,  and  nothing  can  eclipse  it  but  my 
"  World,"  Longfellow  excepted.      It  will  cure  the  hypo 


VI  PREFACE. 

and  all  disagreeable  sensations  in  the  head,  by  laughing 
you  into  convulsions  or  a  healthfdl  perspiration,  which 
will  prove  more  effectual  than  all  the  doctor's  bags  and 
bills  in  Christendom.  I  ain't  sure  but  what  it  will  put 
down  rebeldom,  and  send  all  secesh  to  the  Shampeaceso 
territories,  or  the  Pee-wee  Islands.  At  any  rate,  it  will 
work  wonders  in  camp-life,  and  tell  them  that  cotton 
ain't  dead  at  the  North,  although  he  can't  be  king  of 
rebeldom.     Exit. 

Kate  Stanton. 


CONTENTS 


PASB 

Introduction, 1 


CHAPTER   I. 

My  Childhood's  Home.  —  Family  Joys  and  Bereavements.  —  A 
Deathbed  Scene, .11 

CHAPTER    IT. 
The  Burial.  —  An  unbidden  Guest.  —  The  Cross  and  the  Crown,      18 

CHAPTER   III. 

Our  Home  without  a  Mother,        .        .        .        .        .        .        .23 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Our  Brother's  Dream.  —  His  Guide  through  the  Forest. — Her 
Castle  Home, 28 

CHAPTER    V. 

The  Separations.  —  Visit  of  two  Young  Ladies  from  Lowell.  — 
Their  glowing  Descriptions  of  Factory  Life.  —  My  Resolve 
and  Trials., •.         .         .37 


VIU  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

My  Journey  to  Lowell.  —  The  Arrival.  —  First  Impressions.  — 
First  Introduction  into  the  Boarding-house  and  Cotton  Mill,        44 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Letters  from  Home.  —  Matta's  Marriage.  —  Sudden  Death  of  our 
Father.  —  My  Treasure.  —  A  Brother's  Grave,        .        .        .50 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Our  last  Brother  dies  in  New  Orleans.  —  The  Sacrilege  in  our 
Childhood's  Home.  —  Minnie's  Marriage.  —  Lula  with  me  in 
Xowell, 57 

CHAPTERIX. 

Return  to  the  Scenes  of  my  Childhood.  —  Lula's  Home.  —  Matta's 
Bereavements. — Xula's  Letters  ;  her  Frank  is  dying,      .        .64 

CHAPTER    X. 

Death  of  Lula's  Cherub  Boy.  —  Her  Husband's  triumphant  Death. 
—  Her  Home  made  Desolate, 70 

CHAPTER    XI. 

I  return  to  the  Spindle  City.  —  Changes  in  No.  10, — A  Pleasant 
Companion.  — Little  Weeping  Willow, 76 

CHAPTER    XTI. 

EflSeXee's  glowing  T)escription  of  her  Childhood's  Home.  —  Es- 
quire Stoneheart's  Paupers, 82 


CONTENTS.  IX 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

EflSe's  Parents  commence  the  Privations  of  Pauperism  under  the 
Auspices  of  Alexander  Stoneheart,  Esq.  —  An  unexpected 
Friend, •        .     89 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

Angelica  Stoneheart's  Casket  of  Treasures.  —  Taken  by  Surprise. 

—  Esquire  Homer's  Gift  of  Glen  Cottage  to  the  Lees,      .        .     95 

CHAPTER    XV. 

Life's  Changes.  —  The  Lees  in  Glen  Cottage.  —  The  Fearful  Visi- 
tant. —  Effie  and  her  Brother  alone, 102 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

Effie's  Brother  becomes  a  Student.  —  His  sudden  Death.  —  Effie 
alone  and  Homeless.  —  Resorts  to  a  Cotton  Mill.  —  Kate  Stan- 
ton's Debut, 108 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

Effie  becomes  a  Factory  Girl.  —  Kate  Stanton  taking  Lessons  in       . 
the  Mysteries  of  Woman's  Rights, 114 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Kate  Stanton  gone  to  the  Wild- woods.  —  Effie  becomes  a  Bride. 

—  Her  happy  Leave-taking, 120 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Changes  in  No.  10. — Preparations  for  the  Eastham  Camp-meet- 
ing. —  Sister  Lula's  departure  to  the  Spirit-world.  —  Visit  to 
my  Mother's  Grave.  —  Effie's  Heart  is  breaking,      .        .        .125 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

Kate  Stanton's  Visit.  —  Her  Tour  through  Maine.  —  Description 
of  Heatherton  Hall  and  Willow  Dale, 132 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

Kate  Stanton's  unexpected  Meeting  with  Effie  Lee.  —  They  Jour- 
ney together, 138 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

Kate's  Arrival  at  the  Old  Hall.  —  The  Coachman  thinks  she  is 
from  the  Southward,  and  mistakes  her  Baggage  for  Log  Cabins. 
—  Aunt  Heatherton's  cordial  Greeting.  —  Kate's  fears  and  pleas- 
ant Surprise.  —  Her  Mother's  Bridal  Chamber.  —  The  Family 
Portraits, 143 

•  CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Kate  in  the  ancestral  Chair.  —  Her  Vision.  —  Is  taken  for  a  Rap- 
ping Medium.  —  Her  Aunt's  HoiTor  of  Spiritualists.  —  Kate's 
Fun-loving  Spirit  aroused, 150 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Kate's  wild  Freaks;  —  Her  Aunt's  History  of  the  Lees.  —  Her 
Prediction  verified.  —  Planning  a  Visit  to  EflBe,        .        .        .  1 58 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

On  the  way  to  Glen  Cottage.  —  The  Tomb  of  the  Heathertons.  — 
Effie  found  senseless  upon  her  Mother's  Grave.  —  Little  Charley 
joyfully  recognizes  Kate.  —  Effie  restored  to  Consciousness.  — 
Aunt  Heatherton  the  Good  Samaritan, 16.5 


CONTENTS.  XI 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Effie  denied  Repose  in  Glen  Cottage.  —  Aunt  Heatherton's  Balm. 
—  The  New  Home, 172 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

EflSe  in  Heatherton  HalL  —  Her  Prostration  and  Recovery.  — 
Giving  a  History  of  her  Love  and  Desertion,  .        .        .        176 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

Effie's  Flight  from  her  treacherous  Husband.  —  Is  denied  admission 
to  the  Home  of  a  former  Friend.  —  Her  Rescue  and  Relief,      .  184 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

Effie's  unexpected  Meeting  with  Kate  Stanton  at  the  Wayside 
Inn.  —  They  Journey  together.  —  Her  Reception  at  Glen  Cot- 
tage. —  Going  to  colonize  the  Pee-wee  Islands,         .        .        .  1b& 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

Kate  Stanton's  Soliloquy.  —  The  "World  upside  down.  —  Going  to 
set  a  Peg  or  two  loose,  to  give  the  Great  Wheel  a  jog  the  right 
way.  —  Aunt  Heatherton's  Fears  for  Kate's  Sanity.  —  Kate 
leaves  Heatherton  Hall, 195 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Kate's  Journey  to  the  Spindle  City.  —  She  visits  old  Associates. — 
Her  Reception  at  Col.  G 's  Countrj'-seat,   .        .        .        .201 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 
A  Factory  Girl's  Home, 206 


XU  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

Kate  visits  Lotty  Elton  in  the  Old  Granite  State.  —  Her  Story.  — 
Mira  Grandby  going  to  Aunt  Boston's, 114 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

Mira  Grandby's  Visit  at  Aunt  Boston's,  and  what  came  of  it,        .  220 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 

Lotty*8  Letter  to  Mira  Grandby.  —  Her  Vindication  of  Factory 
GirlB, 226 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

Mira  Grandby  weds  an  Aristocrat.  —  He  proves  a  Gambler  and 
Spendthrift.  —  At  last  deserts  Her, 232 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

Kate  on  an  Exploring  Expedition.  —  She  makes  a  Discovery.  — 
Her  Signs  of  a  Good  Husband, 239 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
Rosa  back  again  to  the  Spindle  City, 246 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Kate  Stanton's  Christmas.  —  Aunt  Heatherton's  Letter.  —  Effie's 
Bridal.  —  Conclusion, 251 


INTRODUCTION. 


npHE    NINETEENTH  of  April,  1861.     Ho^ 

-*-  white,  and  thick,  and  fast  the  snow  came  down. 
How  merrily  it  flew  through  the  air,  and  danced  Yankee 
reels,  to  the  shrill  pipings  of  old  Boreas,  upon  the  broad 
pavements.  How  slj  and  saucily  it  kissed  the  cold 
cheeks  of  bachelor  pedestrians,  reminding  them  of  loving 
lips  and  dimpled  cheeks,  in  the  long,  long  ago.  How 
the  restless  school-boy  shouted  aiid  floundered  in  the 
feathery  wreaths,  laughing  in  high  glee,  at  the  mischief 
those  fairy  revellers  were  making  with  his  sister's  sunny 
ringlets,  twining  a  wreath  of  fantastic  beauty  around 
her  fair  young  brow. 

It  was  a  regal  gala  day  with  old  dame  Nature ;  her 
winding-up  season  ball.  Nobody  in  the  City  of  Spindles 
ever  witnessed  such  a  carnival  as  that  which  dame 
Nature  held  on  the  19th  of  April,  1861.     All  Lowell 


a  INTRODUCTION. 

was  astir  too ;  far  above  the  shrill  piping  and  blustering 
of  old  Boreas,  came  the  loud,  hasty  war-crj  — "  To 
arms !  to  arms  1 "  Every  heart  was  athrob  with  pa- 
triotism. Every  soul  was  ignited  with  loyalty.  Every 
manly  arm  was  ready  to  strike  for  freedom  and  the 
right ;  and  every  wife,  mother,  and  sister  were  ready 
for  the  sacrifice. 

What  shouts  rent  the  air  when  the  glorious  Sixth,  the 
first  to  respond  to  the  clarion  call,  the  first  to  shed  the 
martyr's  blood,  the  first  to  wear  a  martyr's  crown, — with 
waving  plumes  and  floating  banners,  went  out  from  the 
lofty  archway  of  Huntington  Hall  station,  led  on  by 
the  brave,  heroic  Butler,  and  his  fearless  lifeguards. 

Who  ever  witnessed  such  a  hasty  response  to  the 
bugle's  call !  Such  a  kindling  of  patriotism !  Such  a 
mingling  of  brave  hearts  and  sinewy  arms,  to  protect 
the  glorious  institutions  of  their  native  land. 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  mothers  and  daughters  of 
the  Spindle  City ;  and  even  dame  Nature  put  on  her 
gala  robes,  and  danced  and  piped  joyously,  while  she 
twined  her  fantastic  wreaths  around  the  brows  of  those 
brave  and  loyal  volunteers. 

My  whole  soul  was  gushing  with  enthusiasm  for  the 
patriotic  loyalty  which  characterized  the  noble  sons  of 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

the  Spindle  Citj,  —  the  citj  of  mj  adoption;  when,  like 
a  floating  iceberg  upon  a  tropical  sea,  Mrs.  Allstone  — 
and  there  are  many  Mrs.  AUstones  in  every  commu- 
nity—  made  her  appearance,  equipped  for  a  leave- 
taking  and  a  journey. 

"  Where  away,  Mrs.  Allstone  ? "  I  inquired  as  she 
settled  herself  most  unceremoniously  among  my  writing 
materials  and  patriotic  effusions,  which  the  occurrences 
of  the  day  had  called  forth. 

"  Oh !  "  she  answered,  "  I  am  sick  of  this  low,  detes- 
table Spindle  City ;  and  I  am  determined  to  take  up  my 
line  of  march,  and  flee  from  it,  as  Lot  fled  from  the 
doomed  city  of  Sodom  ;  and  I  shall  be  in  no  danger  of 
becoming  petrified,  as  Avas  his  fooHsh  wife,  by  looking 
back  with  any  desire  to  return  to  its  vices  and  vanities." 

"  You  are  beside  yourself,  Mrs.  Allstone,"  I  an- 
swered. "  What  mean  you,  by  such  unjust  epithets 
applied  to  our  goodly  city." 

"  What  mean  I,  Mrs.  Hartwell  ?  Ask  the  widow 
who  has  been  defrauded  of  her  little  competence,  by 
that  wicked  Dives  who  rides  in  his  fur-lined  carriage, 
and  gloats  himself  with  the  luxuries  upon  his  sumptuous 
table. 

"  Ask  her  fatherless  children,  who  fain  would  satisfy 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

their  cravings  of  hunger  with  the  crumbs  that  fall 
unheeded  at  his  feet. 

"  Ask  those,  w^ose  shivering,  half-clad  forms,  in  vain 
.seek  the  warmth  of  the  expiring  embers  to  relax  the 
palsied  limbs,  and  stir  the  life-current  which  moves  with 
the  sluggishness  of  death  through  the  half  frozen 
thoroughfares  of  the  heart. 

"  Ask  that  deserted  wife,  who,  in  her  desolate  and 
•  comfortless  abode,  bends  anxiously  and  tearfully  over 
her  suffering  child,  bathing  his  parched  lips  with  her 
fond  kisses ;  cooling  his  fevered  brow  with  the  tears  that 
gush  forth  from  her  agonized  heart ;  never  relaxing  her 
watchful  vigil  through  the  long,  lone  night  hours,  lest 
her  darling  babe,  in  his  fevered  restlessness,  expose  his 
tender  limbs  to  the  cold,  chilUng  atmosphere  of  her  com- 
fortless chamber. 

"  Listen  to  her  anguished  heart-throbbings,  and  half- 
frenzied  invocations  to  the  God  of  the  friendless,  ming- 
ling with  the  night  dirges  which  sweep  in  moaning 
response  back  to  her  widowed  heart. 

"  Ask  her  faithless  husband,  who,  all  unheedful  of 
their  wrongs  and  sufferings,  lavishes  his  smiles  and  his 
gold  alike  upon  the  vile  partner  of  his  guilty  desertion ; 
casting  aside  as  a  thing  of  naught  the  holy  bonds  of 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

his  marriage  vows ;  the  pure  and  holy  love  of  a  truthful 
heart,  a  father's  godlike  responsibility,  and  the  elevat- 
ing and  ennobling  position  which  they  command  in  the 
world.  All  these  are  as  naught,  while  the  voice  of  his 
guilty  syren  lures  him  on,  on,  blinded  by  her  fiendish 
fascinations  to  destruction  and  death. 

"  Ask  the  debauchee,  who  hastens  to  his  infamous 
resort  with  the  last  dime,  for  which  his  children  are- 
starving  or  freezing  in  the  pitiless  blast ;  and  the  horde 
of  wretched  creatures  whose  gay  robes  sweep  flaunt- 
ingly  through  the  streets,  divested  of  the  pure  shining 
circlet  with  which  Virtue  designates  her  children ;  and 
see  the  long  train  of  blinded  votaries  which  follow,  and 
their  name  is  legion.  Ask  those  who  hold  the  scales 
of  law  and  power,  and  controvert  that  of  justice,  what 
I  mean. 

"  Then  go  into  those  living  tombs,  those  slave-palaces, 
and  see  the  pale,  shrinking,  overtasked  thousands, 
toiling  on,  year  after  year,  for  the  mere  pittance  to 
prolong  a  miserable  existence,  —  and  for  what  ? 

"  To  fill  the  cofiers  of  the  wealthy  capitalists,  and 
rear  marble  palaces  for  their  aristocratic  sons  and 
daughters,  who  would  not  deign  to  have  them  touch  the 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

hem  of  their  golden  drapery,  lest  it  should  be  polluted 
by  their  plebeian  proximity." 

"  Really,  Mrs.  AUstone,  you  have  got  oflf  a  long  yam, 
without  the  aid  of  '  Roper,'  or  '  Spinning  Jenny.'  But 
I  must  contend,  that  you  have  given  only  the  dark  side 
of  the  picture. 

"  Your  Dives,  or  his  counterpart,  will  be  found  in 
•almost  every  city  and  clime  in  the  wide  world ;  and  so 
will  be  his  wronged  and  suffering  victims.  But  they, 
like  Lazarus  of  old,  will  at  last  find  a  resting-place  in 
Abraham's  bosom,  while  Dives  is  famishing  for  a  drop 
of  water  to  cool  his  burning  tongue. 

"And  the  husband,  who  would  desert  a  true  and 
faithful  wife  in  the  City  of  Spindles,  would,  if  in  parsr 
dise,  desert  the  fairest  daughter  of  Eve  to  follow  the 
fascinating  trail  of  the  hissing  serpent  into  a  thicket  of 
thorns. 

"  Lowell  is  not  a  paradise,  I  will  admit ;  yet  there 
is  much  of  good  illuminating  and  spanning,  like  the 
bow  of  hope  and  promise,  the  dark  picture  you  have 
presented  to  my  view.  To  me  it  seems  an  asylum  for 
the  oppressed,  a  home  for  the  homeless,  and  a  broad 
highway  leading  to  wealth  and  honor. 

"  The  influence  of  the  Spindle  City  is  felt  throughout 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

almost  the  entire  universe.  It  is  one  of  the  main- 
springs which  moves  the  great  wheel  of  enterprise  and 
commerce. 

"  Food  and  clothing  have  gone  out  from  her  portals 
to  the  starving  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Emerald  Isle, 
as  though  they  had  been  brothers  and  sisters  of  the 
same  paternal  roof. 

"  Kansas,  bleeding,  famishing,  and  dying,  has  revived 
again,  and  put  on  her  beautiful  garments  of  hope  and 
•strength,  when  the  full-freighted  ship  has  neared  her 
borders,  which  Lowell  has  contributed  to  send  forth  to 
her  aid. 

"  And  this  is  not  all.  Lowell  has  sent  out,  and  not 
stintily,  the  bread  of  life  to  far  distant  India.  And 
from  what  you  have  termed  '  slave-palaces,'  '  living 
tombs,'  have  gone  out  missionaries,  ministers,  lawyers, 
doctors,  poets,  and  artists,  that  will  compare,  nay,  com- 
pete, with  many  that  have  been  reared  in  the  hot-beds 
of  affluence  and  ease.  And,  may-be,  our  nation's  future 
president  is  even  now  the  little  sooty  bobbin-boy,  bash- 
fully going  his  rounds  in  that  humble  capacity. 

"  Ask  them  where  they  received  their  first  inspira- 
tions, and  they  will  tell  you  amidst  the  clattering  of 
machinery  in  the  busy  Spindle  City. 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

"  Call  it  not  a  life  of  oppression,  while  the  rose-tinted 
cheek,  and  beaming  eye,  glows  with  animation  and 
happiness  ;  while  the  elastic,  graceful  step,  the  light, 
joyous  song,  the  clear  silvery  laugh,  tell  not  of  laborious 
toil,  or  wearying  care. 

"  Ask  that  widowed  mother,  in  some  obscure  country 
town,  who,  perhaps,  for  months  and  years  has  been  a 
helpless  invalid,  what  has  brought  back  the  light  of 
happiness  to  her  eye,  the  glow  of  health  to  her  cheek, 
and  the  smile  to  her  lips  ;  and  she  will  tell  you,  that,  away 
in  the  busy  Spindle  City,  her  fatherless  children  have 
found  a  home,  and  are  steadily  acquiring  a  competence 
for  all  their  need. 

"  The  capitalists,  whom  you  have  designated  proud 
and  aristocratic,  are  truly  their  benefactors. 

"  Visit  the  hundreds  of  large,  commodious  factory 
boarding-houses,  and  see  the  poor  widows,  with  their 
fatherless  children  installed  there,  surrounded  by  every 
comfort,  while  their  children  are  receiving  an  education 
which  will  fit  them  for  any  position,  however  honorable, 
in  life.  And  when  panics  and  famines,  and  other 
calamities,  have  visited  the  land,  have  these  wealthy 
factory  capitaUsts  crushed  these  poor  widows  with  an 
iron  heel,  or  ground  the  faces  of  the  poor  into  the  dust 
of  the  earth  ? 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

"  No ;  through  the  long  cold  winters  they  have 
lived  securely  in  their  factory  homes,  rent  free.  Not  a 
tithe  has  been  demanded  from  the  widow  or  her  little 
competence  to  swell  the  purse  of  the  milhonaire,  till 
prosperity  again  visits  the  land. 

"  Yes,  ah  yes,  your  '  slave-prisons,'  and  '  charnel- 
houses,'  are  the  very  hfe-springs  of  the  whole  universe. 
Let  some  formidable  panic  stop  the  evolutions  of  the 
great  wheel  of  manufacture  in  our  Spindle  City,  and, 
like  electricity,  the  effects  of  that  result  reaches  from 
pole  to  pole. 

"  The  factory  system  is  not,  as  you  have  hinted, 
demoralizing  in  its  tendency.  Its  every  regulation 
strictly  prohibits  immorality,  and  demands  of  every 
operative  a  strict  observance  of  the  Sabbath  and  its 
holy  institutions.  Vice  and  immorality  are  not  engen- 
dered by  the  wholesome  laws  and  discipline  of  factory 
life. 

"  Many  who  have  come  here  vile  and  degraded,  have 
soon  been  led  into  the  higher  walks  of  virtue  and 
sobriety,  by  the  kindly  hand  and  angelic  sympathy  of 
some  of  the  good  factory  missionaries. 

"  Yes,  amongst  our  operatives  there  are  many  mis- 
sionaries, many  good  Samaritans,  who  are  working  for 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

God  and  eternity  in  that  vast  harvest-field ;  the*  result 
of  whose  labors  will  only  be  known  when  the  Father 
judges  and  rewards  the  works  of  the  faithful. 

"  A  thousand  times  more  truly  are  those  men  the 
real  benefactors  of  the  widow,  the  orphan,  and  the  poor 
generally,  than  those  who  build  almshouses,  asylums, 
and  other  institutions  of  charity ;  where  those  who 
enter  eke  out  a  miserable  existence  of  dependent  beg- 
gary, instead  of  the  competence  acquired  by  their  own 
cheerful,  enervating,  and  elevating  industry,  amidst  the 
clattering  of  machinery  in  the  various  departments  of 
factory  operations. 

"  You  look  incredulous,  Mrs.  AUstone,  but  I  will 
prove  to  you  that  I  have  not  exaggerated,  by  giving 
you  a  sketch  of  my  own  experience  of  factory  life  within 
this  same,  and  to  you,  detestable  City  of  Spindles." 


EFFIE   AND   I; 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A   COTTON  MILL. 


CHAPTER    I. 

MT    childhood's    HOME. FAMILY     JOYS     AND    BEREAVEMENTS. 

A    DEATHBED    SCENE. 

THAT  LITTLE  brown  cottage!  How  vividly 
it  rises  to  my  view,  nestled  so  quietly  beneath  the 
shadowy  branches  of  that  wide-spreading  oak ;  and  be- 
neath it,  on  the  green  turf,  are  half  a  score  of  laughing, 
rollicking  boys  and  girls,  singing,  chatting,  and  romping, 
—  from  the  silver-haired  baby,  to  the  rough  blowsy  boy 
in  his  teens> 

How  they  made  the  glens  and  woodlands  send  back 
the  mocking  echo  of  their  merriment,  till  it  became 
almost  a  scene  of  enchantment,  peopled  with  invisible  and 
fairy-like  revellers. 


12  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

Again  I  stand  within  the  vast  arena  of  those  magnifi- 
cent hills,  where  above  and  beneath,  the  mighty  forests 
throw  their  sombre  shadows,  or  lift  the  glossy  foliage  of 
their  gigantic  branches  to  the  whispering  zephyrs,  wlych 
float  lazily  along  in  a  summer  twihght,  laden  with  the 
rich  fragrance  gathered  from  the  sweet  fresh  wild-flowers, 
hidden  beneath  the  tangled  brushwood. 

Again  I  listen,  half-entranced,  to  the  wild  melody 
gushing  out  from  the  forest  vistas,  sweet  and  soul-stir- 
ring as  the  dulcet  strains  which  vibrate  upon  a  wind- 
swept aeohan. 

Again  I  look  with  admiration  upon  the  broad  lakes, 
which  lay  side  by  side,  like  loving  sisters,  till  their  white- 
crested  wave,  sweeping  gracefully  over  the  surface,  min- 
gle into  one. 

I  follow  the  windings  of  the  murmuring  streams,  half 
hidden  by  shrubbery  and  lily-beds,  laying  hke  crests 
of  laurel  and  pearl  upon  the  sparkling  wave. 

Again  I  see  the  broad  fields,  in  the  golden  harvest 
month,  and  listen  to  the  songs  of  the  happy  reaper, 
while  he  binds  his  heavy  sheaves,  or  bears  them  in  tri- 
umph to  his  home  — sweet  home. 

I  hear  the  lowing  of  the  herds,  and  the  bleating  of  the 
flocks  upon  the  adjacent  hills,  or  sit  spell-bound  beneath 
the  broad  harvest-moon,  laying  like  a  sheet  of  golden 
lava  upon  our  cottage  home,  and  the  adjacent  wood- 
lands ;  where  the  owls  "  too-hoo"  far  away  in  the  old 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    13 

hollow  he  has  chosen  for  his  retreat,  mingles  in  rough 
cadence  with  the  distant  waterfall  and  the  shrill  chirp  of 
the  harvest  insects. 

I  see  the  old  school-house  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
and  hear  the  wild  rush  of  childish  feet  and  long  pent  up 
mirthfulness,  as  one  after  another  comes  dashing  and 
bounding  through  the  old  porch  like  the  frogs  of  Egypt, 
impatient  to  destroy  every  impeding  and  opposing  obstar 
cle  before  them. 

Again  I  hear  the  dreamy  tap  —  tap  —  tap  of  the 
summer  showers,  falling  upon  the  tufts  of  moss, 
chucked  here  and  there  within  the  gaping  crevices  of 
our  own  little  brown  cot,  and  see  the  bright  sunbeams 
shimmering  playfully  through  the  loose  shingles,  revel- 
ling here  and  there  in  fantastic  shapes,  like  a  whole 
troop  of  frohcksome  fairies,  upon  the  rough,  unpainted 
floor.  • 

And  the  old  oak-tree  sways  its  branches  to  and  fro 
over  the  tufts  of  moss  and  gaping  crevices,  while  be- 
neath its  deep  foliage  the  lark  chants  his  lay,  and  the 
whippoorwill  sings  his  plaintive  good-night. 

Again  I  see  the  bright  wild-flowers  spring  up  be- 
neath the  low  hedge,  and  the  soft  breezes  waft  thei* 
sweet  aroma  through  the  low  casements,  sprinkling  hero 
and  there  their  fresh  perfume  upon  little  knots  of 
shining  curls,  kissing  in  playful  mood  the  fair  white 
brows  half  hidden  beneath  them. 


14  EFFIBANDi;OR, 

The  silvery  moonbeams  never  bathed  the  battlements 
of  a  regal  home  more  gorgeously  or  witchingly  than 
they  did  the  moss-tufted  roof  of  our  own  little  cot. 

And  then  the  merry  huskings,  and  apple-parings,  and 
quilting  parties,  and  evening  dances,  where,  with  buoy- 
ant step  and  lighter  hearts,  we  danced  away  the  long 
autumn  evenings,  till  the  small  hours  chimed  ominously 
from  the  tall,  old-fashioned  clock  in  the  hall.  And  then 
the  happy  good-nights,  as  we  left  one  after  another  of 
our  companions,  till  we  reached  our  own  quiet  home,  be- 
neath the  swaying  branches  of  the  old  oak-tree. 

Oh,  yes !  I  remember  it  now,  when  the  long  winter 
evenings  came  ;  then  came  the  merry  sleigh-bells  to  our 
cottage  door,  till  the  rooms  were  filled  with  the  comely 
lads  and  lasses  of  Seclusivale,  with  viols,  flutes,  and  fifes, 
and  voices  all  in  tune  for  a  right  good  old-fashioned  sing. 
^ur  father  was  a  music-teacher,  and  my  mother,  I 
never  heard  her  voice  excelled,  so  clear,  melodious,  and 
soul-stirring ;  and  then  half  a  score  of  us  beside,  all 
with  voices  which  defied  competition.  Oh,  how  many, 
many,  many  times,  when  I  have  sat,  deserted  and  alone, 
in  my  comfortless  room,  have  my  thoughts  reverted  to 
those  happy  winter  evenings  in  my  childhood's  home, 
where  the  voices  of  music  and  gladness  reverberated  till 
the  forests  and  glens  almost  sent  back  an  answering 
response. 

There  were  my  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  eleven  of 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         15 

US  all,  and  I  did  not  dream  that  the  links  which  bound  us 
together  could  be  severed  in  the  bright  sunny  days  of 
our  beauty  and  youth. 

The  first  great  sorrow  came  like  a  dark,  fearful  shadow. 
It  fell  alike  upon  our  hearts  and  home.  It  was  in  the 
harvest  month,  when  the  reapers  were  gathering  the 
yellow  corn  and  full  ripe  sheafs  into  the  garner. 

When  the  summer  flowers  were  fading  and  drooping, 
one  after  another,  from  the  parent  stem ;  when  the  fields 
and  forests  were  gorgeous  with  the  rambow  hues  the  for- 
est king  had  painted ;  when  the  sky  looked  regal  with 
crimson  and  gold,  mingled  with  the  dark,  heavy  folds  of 
the  threatening  storm-cloud  ;  when  the  birds  were  chant- 
ing their  farewell  songs  in  their  summer  bowers,  and  the 
cold  winds  were  sweeping  relentlessly  over  the  distant 
mountains. 

I  remember  it  well ;  it  was  one  of  those  dreamy,  hazy, 
sunny  days  of  autumn,  that  a  group  of  friends  and 
neighbors  were  gathered  in  the  little  darkened  chamber 
where  she  lay,  our  sister,  the  eldest  of  our  happy  band. 

A  long  while  she  had  been  drooping,  till  her  shght 
form  seemed  almost  etherial,  and  her  large  blue  eyes 
beamed  with  a  radiance  so  spiritual  and  holy,  that,  child 
as  I  was,  I  felt  awed  with  the  angelic  and  heavenly  ex- 
pression which  radiated  every  feature  of  her  pale,  wan 
face. 

Oh,  she  was  beautiful  as^he  lay  there,  with  her  brow 


16  EFFIEANDr;OR, 

clear  and  white  as  Parian  marble,  pressed  against  th* 
pillow,  contrasting  so  strangely  with  the  deep  crimson 
upon  the  wasted  cheek,  and  the  light  which  ehone  out 
from  the  clear  depths  of  her  large  blue  eyes,  partially 
shaded  by  the  long  damp  masses  of  golden  curls,  which 
lay  in  careless  negligence  around  her  neck  and  brow. 

Our  parish  minister  was  there  too  ;  and  his  voice  went 
up  in  a  heart-felt  benediction  to  the  Holy  of  Holies,  for 
her  who  lay  just  upon  the  verge  of  heaven ;  beholding 
even  then  with  her  spirit-vision  the  glories  of  the  New 
Jerusalem. 

He  sprinkled  the  baptismal  waters  upon  her  upturned 
brow,  and  administered  to  her  the  emblems  of  a  Saviour's 
love. 

Then  they  chanted  a  low  sweet  hymn,  spoke  to  us 
kindly  words  of  sympathy,  and  a  tearful  farewell  to  the 
dying  one,  and  the  room  was  left  silent  and  vacant,  save 
only  by  the  little  band  which  yet  remained  unbroken. 

A  few  days  more  passed  away,  and  then  she  lay  tran- 
quil as  marble  in  her  death-robes.  Death  awed  me; 
beautiful  as  she  lay  there,  I  could  not  look  upon  her ; 
"and  I  fled  to  my  mother's  room,  to  pour  out  my  first 
sorrow  upon  her  maternal  bosom. 

0  my  mother !  my  mother !  I  never  shall  forget  that 
scene.  There  she  knelt,  pale  as  the  death-form  I  had 
fled  from,  in  tearless  and  silent  communion  with  God 
and  the  freed  spirit  of  he|^  eldest  born  which  was  then 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.        17 

hovering  over  her,  clothed  in  the  beautiful  garments  of 
sainted  immortality. 

I  spoke  not  —  I  moved  not,  —  for  I  felt  that  a  holy 
unction  had  fallen  upon  her  and  that  home  of  death. 
The  hand  of  God  was  upon  us  ;  and  I  then  knew  that  it 
was  not  in  anger  He  had  afflicted  us,  but  in  merciful 
kindness. 

2* 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE   BURIAL. — AN    UNBIDDEN   GUEST. — THE    CROSS   AND 
THE    CROWN. 

THE  D  A  Y  of  burial  came ;  and  oh,  I  felt  it  was 
a  sacrilege  to  lay  her,  beautiful  as  she  was,  beneath 
the  cold,  damp  turf. 

When  the  spring-time  came  again  the  trees  bloomed 
over  her  grave,  and  the  wild  flowers  sprang  up  around 
the  raised  turf ;  and  then  we  sat  there  many  an  hour, 
and  talked  of  her,  and  sang  the  songs  she  loved  to  hear. 
We  nestled  more  closely  together  in  our  own  home  nest^ 
Our  mirthfulness  was  more  subdued,  our  songs  more 
plaintive,  and  although  a  link  was  broken  in  our  little 
band,  and  we  missed  her  sweet  smiles  and  sisterly 
counsellings,  yet  we  mourned  not  without  hope,  for  was 
not  one  of  us  a  white-robed  angel,  and  were  there  not 
many  yet  remaining  to  bind  us  to  our  earth-home,  to 
guide  and  cheer  us  through  the  sunny  paths  of  childhood 
and  youth  ? 

And  we  thought,  too,  that  the  cravings  of  the  death- 
angel  were  appeased ;  that  not  for  many,  many  years, 
would  his  bony  fingers  rap  again  at  the  door  of  our 
happy,  though  humble  home. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.        19 

Oar  eyes  were  bright  and  sparkling,  our  cheeks  round 
and  ruddy;  our  songs  gushed  forth  from  lightsome 
hearts  ;  our  steps  light  and  free  as  health  and  buoyancy 
could  make  them.  Oh,  no,  there  was  no  more  work  for 
the  death-angel  in  our  home. 

Our  mother's  cheek  grew  paler  and  more  wan,  to  be 
sure ;  her  slight  form,  oh,  so  like  a  shadow ;  but  her 
eyes  were  bright,  her  brow  so  serene,  and  we  knew  that 
she  prayed  often,  very  often,  to  Him  who  had  taken  her 
eldest  born,  in  the  bloom  and  beauty  of  youth,  to  become 
an  heir  with  Him,  and  joint  heir  with  Jesus  Christ,  with- 
in the  pearly  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

But  the  death-angel  would  spare  her  !  he  would  not, 
he  could  not,  take  her  from  us ! 

Again  it  is  autumn ;  twice  has  the  song  of  the  reapers 
floated  out  upon  the  evening  breezes  in  the  gulden  har- 
vest-month ;  since  the  death-angel  shattered  the  earth- 
clogs,  and  Qiir  sister  Olivia  soared  away  to  the  higher 
life  in  the  city  of  our  God. 

Far  away  over  the  western  hills  the  broad  red  sun  is 
sinking  to  repose  beneath  the  rich  drapery  that  hangs  in 
gorgeous  festoons  from  the  blue  canopy  above,  throwing 
a  halo  of  beauty  over  hill  and  dale. 

From  the  deep  sombre  recesses  of  the  adjacent  for- 
ests comes  the  clear  rich  strains  of  the  night-bird, 
imparting  a  peaceful  dehght  to  the  weary,  and  filling  the 
still  evening  air  with  plaintive  melody. 

The  shadows  of  evening  are  gathering  quietly  around 


20  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

tlie  old  oak-tree,  which  throws  its  gigantic  arms  so  pro- 
tectinglj  over  our  cottage  home.  We  are  awed  with  the 
imposing  stillness  which  pervades  it,  till  the  very  foot- 
fall seems  a  sacrilege. 

Step  reverently ;  for  a  mighty  conqueror  is  even 
now  waiting  for  admission,  bearing  a  message  from  the 
King  of  kings.  Step  softly ;  for  holy  angels  are 
bending  over  the  couch  of  the  dying  one,  chanting  the 
strains  of  the  New  Jerusalem  ;  binding  upon  her  marble 
brow  —  already  glowing  with  a  holy  radiance  —  the 
croAvn  of  the  faithful  and  the  redeemed. 

Step  lightly ;  for  loved  ones  are  kneeling  by  the 
sick  one's  couch,  and  the  gushing  tears  of  heart-felt 
sorrow  are  falling  unchecked  upon  the  snowy  drapery. 
Bleeding  hearts  are  offering  up  their  silent  and  fervent 
invocations  to  Heaven's  throne.  Oh !  it  is  a  holy  place ; 
just  on  the  verge  of  the  spirit-world ;  and  every  breath 
seems  wafted  from  Elysian  bowers.  #  * 

Step  aside  ;  for  the  grim  messenger  approaches.  He 
heeds  not  the  prayers,  the  tears,  the  sighs,  nor  the 
beseeching  looks  of  love.  He  cares  not  for  the  vacant 
chair,  the  deserted  hearth,  the  bleeding  hearts,  the 
orphan's  tears. 

He  lays  his  icy  hand  upon  that  ashy  brow,  already 
crowned  with  a  halo  of  glory. 

He  shuts  out  from  her  mortal  vision  the  dear,  famil- 
iar objects  of  home,  and  the  little  flock  her  love  has  so 
tenderly   sheltered,  and   opens  to  her  wandering  view 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    21 

the  dazzling  glories  of  the  spirit-world,  with  the  great 
white  throne,  the  Lamb,  and  the  blood-washed  throng  ; 
the  immaculate  robes,  the  palms,  the  crowns,  the  harj:s 
of  gold,  the  tree  of  life,  bending  beneath  dehcious  fruit. 

The  golden  gates  are  swung,  and  she  sees  streets  of 
pearl,  placid  rivers,  smooth  as  pohshed  silver;  and  hears 
far,  far  away,  strains  from  seraph,  harp,  and  lyre. 

Hushed  Avas  the  voice  that  had  so  often  made  our 
quick  pulses  leap  with  joy.  The  fond  smile  was  chilled 
upon  her  icy  lips  ;  the  thin  hands  were  clasped  peace- 
fully over  the  rigid  breast;  the  white  drapery  folded 
gracefully  over  the  marble  features,  and  all  that  was  of 
earth  earthy,  was  given  back  to  corruption. 

In  the  little  burying-ground  where  she  had  so  often 
knelt  and  prayed  over  the  grave  of  her  eldest  bom, 
they  reverently  bore  our  mother  to  her  silent  resting- 
place. 

We  bowed  to  the  sniiting  rod ;  but  our  bruised  and 
bleeding  hearts  told  how  deeply  and  surely  the  shaft 
had  pierced  them. 

How,  in  the  silent  anguish  of  my  stricken  heart,  I 
prayed  to  lay  me  down  beside  the  senseless  form  they 
slowly  laid  within  the  open  vault.  But  the  death-angel 
coAes  not  at  our  bidding,  and  they  bore  me  back  to  the 
desolations  of  a  motherless  home.  Who  can  portray  the 
heart-anguish  of  bereaved  ones  when  they  return  from 
a  mother's  burial  to  the  desolate  home.  Words  are  a 
mockery  at  description. 


22  EFFIEANDI. 

There  stands  the  old  arm-chair  in  its  accustomed 
nook,  but  the  occupant  is  not  there.  The  well-worn 
Bible  lays  in  the  selfsame  spot  upon  the  shelf  where 
her  hands  had  placed  it.  The  bed  where  she  suffered 
and  died  is  draped  in  fresh  white  linen,  and  bears  no 
token  of  a  recent  occupant.  The  table  is  spread,  but  a 
neighbor  assumes  the  place  erst  made  sacred  by  a 
mother's  presence. 

With  awe  and  hushed  silence  we  gather  around  the 
once  cheerful  fireside ;  we  turn  at  a  thought,  a  word, 
for  the  approving  smile,  or  look  of  approbation,  but  she 
is  not  there  ;  the  death-angel  has  borne  her  away,  away 
to  the  mansions  of  rest  in  the  happy  spirit- world ;  where 
she  no  longer  feels  pain  or  weariness ;  where  her  spirit 
bounds  with  all  the  freshness  and  vigor  of  youth ;  and 
her  form,  light  and  etherial,  floats  gracefully  along  over 
streets  of  pearl  and  glittering  gold,  to  the  throne  of  the 
Immaculate,  to  mingle  her  notes  of  praise  with  myriad 
angel  voices  to  the  Lamb  who  sits  thereon,  arrayed  in 
the  dazzling  glory  of  His  majesty  and  power. 

Closer  we  nestled  together,  while  we  wept,  and  prayed, 
and  mourned  for  the  mother,  who  in  love  had  sheltered 
her  little  flock  from  the  storms  and  blasts  of  a  pitiless 
world  ;  and  we  felt  that  God  might  have  spared  her'^et 
a  little  longer  to  her  tender  lambs.  But  we  saw  not  the 
frightful  herd  of  hungry  wolves,  crouching  without  the 
fold,  impatient  to  suck  the  life-blood  of  the  flock,  which 
had  been  sheltered  only  by  a  mother's  tenderest  care. 


CHAPTER  III. 


OUR  HOME  WITHOUT  A  MOTHER. 


THE  COLD  dark  days  of  winter  came ;  but  the 
evenings  were  no  longer  whiled  awaj  in  merry 
pastime.  The  viol  and  flute  no  longer  reverberated 
through  those  hushed  apartments.  The  lightsome  song 
and  gleeful  laugh  were  strangers  to  our  bereaved  hearts. 
And  we  wept,  as  we  nestled  closer  together  by  the 
evening  fireside,  for  the  mother's  love  which  had  for- 
ever departed  from  that  silent  hearth. 

Then  the  spring-time  ♦came,  and  the  summer  flowers 
bloomed  over  the  grave  of  mother  and  sister,  side  by 
side,  which  our- little  hands  had  planted  there.  But  the 
death-angel  was  not  appeased ;  for  ere  the  summer 
flowers-  had  faded  from  off  the  turf  reared  above  their 
graves,  he  came  again ;  and  oh,  so  fearful  was  his 
coming. 

Our  eldest  brothers,  two  of  them,  were  stricken  down 
in  the  vigor  and  beauty  of  early  manhood,  with 
scarcely  a  mOTaent's  warning  of  their  fearful  dissolution. 

Frank,  our  brave  and  noble  sailor  boy,  found  a  grave 


84  E  F  F 1 1:    A  N  D     I  ;     0  K , 

beneath  the  blue  waves  he  loved  so  well,  far,  far  away 
from  our  desolate  home ;  and  Harry,  the  free,  jovial, 
graceful  Harry,  just  one  week  later,  was  stricken  dowH 
by  an  epidemic  which  swept  fearfully  through  a  distant 
city,  where  he  had  hoped  to  win  fortune  and  favor  by 
genius  and  toil. 

Oh,  the  pall-like  gloom !  how  heavily  it  fell  upon  our 
hearts  and  home,  wrapping  us  closer  and  closer  within 
its  sable  folds.  Neighbors  gathered  around  us  with 
words  of  sympathy  and  condolence ;  but  we  could  not 
be  comforted. 

Long  we  had  listened  for  their  approaching  footfall, 
in  hopeful  expectancy  that  the  tales  they  might  tell  us 
of  sea  and  land  would  dissipate  somewhat  the  gloom 
which  shrouded  our  desolate  home. 

But  instead  of  their  cheering  presence,  two  letters, 
draped  in  black,  told  us  a  tale  too  fearfuj  for  our 
stricken  and  bleeding  hearts  to  bear ;  and  again  we 
bowed  to  the  scourging  lacerations  of  the  bereaving 
rod.  Six. of  us  then  remained;  some  in  early  child- 
hood, and  Carro,  the  oldest,  scarcely  in  the  prime  of 
girlhood.  Yet  all  the  duties  and  responsibilities  attend- 
ant upon  us  and  home  rested  upon  her. 

She  struggled  nobly  with  her  unused  task,  casting 
all  her  cares  upon  Him  who  was  able  to  sustain  her. 
But  He  had  another  mission  for  her  ro  perform,  a 
lugher  and  nobler  work,  in  the  mansions  He  had  pre- 
pared for  her. 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A     COTTON    MILL.         25 

And  so  we  saw  her  cheek  pale,  day  bj  day,  her  eye 
grow  more  lustrous,  her  slight  form  more  fragile,  and 
that  same  hoarse,  hollow  cough,  —  oh,  we  had  heard  it 

long  before  ;  and  we  knew  she,  too,  must  die. 

« 

When  the  summer  flowers  had  bloomed  twice  over  our 
mother's  grave,  and  the  cold  blasts  of  winter  had  folded 
oyer  them  a  winding-sheet,  spotless,  and  pure  as  an 
angel's  drapery,  then  sister  Carro  laid  aside  her  earth- 
tasks,  which  had  been  so  faithfully  and  lovingly  per- 
formed, and,  in  the  spring-tide  of  youth  and  beauty, 
calmly  resigned  herself  to  the  repose  of  death  and  the 
tomb. 

Angels  had  called  her  away,  with  their  soft,  sweet 
whisperings  ;  and,  calm  and  silently  as  the  passing  of 
the  summer  zephyr,  shpe  soared  away  from  the  earth- 
clogs,  to  mingle  her  songs  with  those  who  had  gone 
before,  in  the  happy  spirit-land,  where  the  weary  are 
for  ever  at  rest. 

Surely  the  heart  knows  not  how  much  it  can  bear, 
until  it  is  brought  to  the  test.  Other  sorrows  awaited 
us,  aside  from  the  bereavement  which  death  had  wrought 
upon  us. 

The  meagre  hand  of  poverty  was  stalking  around  our 
dwelling.  We  heard  his  iron  heel  upon  the  threshold, 
and  his  gaunt  form  threw  a  frightful  shadow  through  the 
desolate  apartments. 

His  sharp   fingers  clutched  mercilessly  our  delicate 


26  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

frames  ;  his  stony  ejes  chilled  the  life-blood  in  our  young 
and  sensitive  hearts,  as  he  bound  us  with  his  heavy 
manacles,  and  made  us  the  helpless  slaves  of  his  tyranny 
and  power. 

Who  will  say  that  poverty  is  a  blessing,  and  welcome 
his  approach  as  an  ambassador  of  peace  and  content- 
ment ? 

He  may  come  as  a  blessing  to  the  gloated,  gouty 
votary  of  luxury  and  ease,  who  groans  and  grapples 
with  his  gluttonous  disease  upon  a  bed  of  softest  down, 
till  he  curses  the  wealth  he  has  so  sinfully  abused,  and 
his  Maker,  too,  for  the  life  which  is  prolonged,  to  endure 
his  merited  sufferings.  But  not  to  the  little  motherless 
flock,  who  shrank  with  fear  and  trembhng  from  his 
pitiless  grasp,  did  he  come  as  a  blessing,  or  a  messenger 
of  good. 

He  was  there  ;  his  hard  heel  was  grinding  us  into  the 
very  dust  of  the  earth ;  and  it  was  then  we  felt  that  the 
death-angel  were  a  thousand  times  more  welcome  than 
the  tyrant,  which  stalked  so  frightfully  around  our  little 
cot. 

Our  father  had  become  disheartened  ;  his  strong  frame 
yielded  unresistingly  to  the  bereaving  rod  ;  a  dark 
cloud  shadowed  his  home,  and  it  had  become  dreary 
and  insupportable  to  him.  He  fled  from  it  to  new  scenes 
and  new  associations  ;  and,  in  the  excitements  of  the 
^usy  city,   sought   forgetfulness   of  the   unhajpy  past. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         27 

But  mernorj  is  a  faithful  attendant,  which  neither  time 
nor  distance,  pleasure  or  pain,  can  annihilate. 

We  had  one  brother,  a  noble,  studious  boy,  whose 
heart  yearned  and  aspired  to  an  honorable  name  and 
position  amongst  the  famed  literati  of  the  land.  But  the 
fond  anticipations  of  his  young  heart  had  been  blasted. 
Poverty  had  reared  an  impenetrable  bulwark  between 
him  and  the  boon  he  so  ardently  craved,  which  only 
time,  toil,  and  perseverance  could  demolish. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

OUR    BBOTHEK'S   DBEAH. — HIS    GUIDE   THROUGH   THE  FOREST. — 
HER   CASTLE   HOME. 

ONE  MORNING,  as  he  seated  himself  at  our 
scantily  furnished  breakfast  table,  he  joyfully  ex- 
claimed, "  0  my  sisters !  I  have  had  such  a  dream ! 
It  even  now  seems  a  vivid  reality. 

"  I  thought  I  wandered  alone,  alone  through  a 
dense  forest.  So  intricate  were  its  windings  and  thick 
branches,  that  not  even  the  sun's  rays  could  penetrate 
through  the  thick,  dark  foliage.  Narrow  footpaths 
branched  out  on  every  side,  leading  to  the  high,  verdure- 
crowned  mountains,  with  which  the  forest  was  sur- 
rounded. 

"  The  free,  gushing  melody  of  the  wild-birds'  song 
came  floating  on  the  fragrant  zephyrs  from  their  sunny 
bowers.  The  low  murmuring  of  distant  water-falls 
reached  my  ears,  mingled  with  the  hum  of  happy 
voices,  and  my  heart  yearned  to  join  in  the  festive 
joys  of  those  rural  scenes. 

"  Exhilarated  with  hope  and  buoyancy  I  turned  into 
one  of  the  most  inviting   footpaths ;  but  I  soon  found 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         29 

it  was  overgrown  with  sharp  thorns  and  briers,  which 
tore  my  garments  and  lacerated  my  flesh,  so  that  I 
was  unable  to  proceed. 

"  I  turned  to  another,  but  was  soon  lost  in  its  dark, 
narrow,  and  intricate  windings.  And  then  another 
seemed  to  invite  me,  and  I  followed  on,  and  on,  till  it  ter- 
minated abruptly  above  a  deep,  dark,  yawning  abyss. 

"  Faint  and  weary,  I  sat  me  down,  hopelessly,  upon 
the  hard  fragments  of  a  jutting  rock,  and  wept.  Clouds 
were  gathering  darkly  and  ominously  around  me  ;  the 
deep,  heavy  thunders  roared  fearfully  in  the  distance. 

"  I  could  not  retrace  my  steps,  for  the  increasing 
blackness  of  the  approaching  storm  hid  from  my  view 
the  narrow  footpath  which  had  guided  me  thither.  I 
could  not  proceed,  for  the  dark  abyss  yawned  to  engulf 
me.  I  stretched  myself  "hopelessly  upon  the  cold,  damp 
ground,  and  gave  myself  up  to  weeping  and  despair. 

"  The  storm  became  darker  and  more  terrific ;  the^ 
lightnings  flashed  vividly,  and  the  thimders  came 
booming  and  crashing  through  the  deep,  dark  vistas  of 
the  old  forest,  like  the  deafening  artillery  of  a  mighty 
war-troop.  I  looked  up  through  the  blinding  tears,  for 
just  then  I  felt  a  hand  laid  lightly  upon  my  shoulders. 

"  A  tall  form  bent  over  me,  enveloped  in  a  dark, 
flowing  mantle,  half  concealing  her  features,  while  'the 
long  white  hair  floated,  like  snow-flakes,  upon  the  pass^ 


30  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

ing  breeze.  Her  arm  was  upraised,  and  her  long,  bony 
fingers  pointed  ominously  to  the  approaching  storm. 

"  '  Arise,  young  man,'  she  said,  '  why  tarryest  thou 
in  the  forest  ?  Seest  thou  not  the  storm  approaching  ? 
Fearest  thou  not  the  thunder's  crashing  roar  ?  the 
lightning's  vivid  flash  ?  the  tornado's  withering  blast  ? 
Arise ;  flee  to  the  mountains,  lest  they  bury  thee  be- 
neath the  oblivious  gulf.' 

"  '  Alas ! '  I  answered,  despondingly,  '  I  know  not 
the  way ;  and  there  is  none  to  guide  me.  Thrice  have 
I  attempted  it,  and  as  often  have  been  driven  back  by 
some  formidable,  impeding  barrier.' 

" '  Perseverance  would  have  surmounted  all  those 
formidable  barriers,'  she  answered,  as  she  bent  her 
keen,  dark  eyes  upon  me.  '  Just  beyond  that  thicket 
of  thorns,  which  you  so  much  feared,  was  a  broad, 
smooth  path,  leading,  with  a  gradual  and  pleasant 
^cent,  directly  to  the  mountains.  Perennial  flowers 
bloom  on  either  side,  wooing  and  refreshing  the  traveller 
with  their  aromatic  odors. 

"  '  The  other  path  was  more  circuitous  ;  requiring  more 
time,  labor,  patience,  and  a  keener  penetration.  For  if 
you  had  raised  your  eyes,  instead  of  keeping  them  upon 
the  brush-wood  and  pebbles  beneath  your  feet,  you 
woilld  have  seen  finger-posts,  directing  you  ever  and 
invariably  to  the  right.  And  then  you  would  have 
escaped  the  seemingly  pleasant  path,  which  lured  you 
onward,  and  onward  to  this  friglitful  gulf.' 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A    COTTON    MILL.        31 

"  I  shuddered,  and  cast  mj  eyes  fearfully  down  to  the 
yawning  abyss. 

"  '  Who  art  thou  ?  '  I  inquired,  turning  to  the  strange 
being  beside  me.  '  Who  knowest  so  well  the  forest 
paths  and  the  mountain  heights.  Wilt  thou  direct  me 
to  the  broad  highway,  that  I  be  not  again  driven 
back  in  dismay  by  formidable  barriers.' 

"  '  I  am,'  she  answered,  '  the  Genius  of  the  forest. 
My  castle  is  on  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  mountain's 
brow. 

"  '  I  wander  forth,  from  the  sunny  bowers  of  my  moun- 
tain home,  through  the  dark  forest  windings,  in  search 
of  those  who  have  foolishly  strayed,  or  lost  their  way 
in  the  many  narrow  and  seemingly  intricate  windings 
of  this  lowland  forest. 

" '  Many  I  have  extricated  from  the  brink  of  this 
fearful  abyss,  whom  I  have  afterwards  crowned  with 
a  fadeless  laurel. 

"  '  And  many  have  perished  here  for  lack  of  courage 
to  surmount  the  threatening  barriers,  or  strength  to 
ascend  the  mountain  path. 

"  '  Will  you  go  ? '  she  asked.  '  The  forest  is  dark, 
the  paths  narrow  and  uneven ;  the  thunders  howl  fear- 
fully through  the  deep  vistas ;  the  scorching  lightnings 
are  flashing  and  hissing  through  the  swaying  branches  ; 
the  tornado's  roar  comes  booming  from  the  distant 
plains. 


32  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

" '  Remain,    and   you   perish.      Go,  and   you .' 

She  raised  her  arm,  and  pointed  significantly  to  her  far 
off  mountain  home. 

"  '  I  will  go,'  I  answered,  as,  with  a  quick  gesture,  I 
reached  forth  my  hand  to  her,  '  if  you  will  lead  me 
through  the  dark,  narrow  forest  paths.' 

"  for  a  sudden  faintness  came  over  me,  when  I  thought 
of  my  previous  attempt  to  penetrate  the  thicket  of 
thorns ;  and  I  fain  would  have  a  companion  to  battle 
with  me  those  formidable  opponents. 

" '  I  will  guide  you,'  she  answered,  waving  back  my 
extended  hand,  '  but  I  cannot  lead  you.  The  path  is 
narrow,  follow. 

" '  Depend  upon  your  own  strength,  your  own  exer- 
tions. Remember  that  the  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor 
the  battle  to  the  strong ;  but  those  who  persevere  to  the 
end  shall  win  the  prize. 

"  '  Look  not  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  nor  back  upon 
the  forest ;  but  keep  your  eye  steadily  upon  the  moun- 
tain. 

"  '  If  you  fearlessly  follow  me  through  the  dark  forest 
windings,  you  can  walk  by  my  side  when  we  emerge 
into  the  broad,  mountain  path ;  and  when  you  gain  the 
dizzy  heights  of  yonder  pinnacle,  you  shall  be  an  honored 
guest  within  my  castle  home.' 

"  She  said  no  more,  but  turned  into  a  path  which  I 
had   not  before   observed,  and  glided   noislessly  along 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         33 

through  the  windings,  which  grew  broader  and  pleas- 
anter,  as  we  progressed  in  our  journey. 

"  Soon  I  began  to  feel  sensible  of  a  gradual  ascent; 
but  it  was  pleasant  and  less  fatiguing  than  the  narrow 
forest  paths. 

"  Mj  guide  turned  to  me  and  said,  approvingly,  '  Thus 
far  you  have  gained  the  victory,'  and  added,  as  she 
bent  her  dark  eyes  searchingly  upon  me,  — 

" '  The  will  opens  to  us  the  way.  W.e  have  gained 
the  mountain  path,  and  now  you  are  worthy  to  walk  by 
my  side.' 

"  The  dark  clouds  had  all  disappeared ;  the  cahn  blue 
sky  was  over  us ;  the  warm,  dazzhng  sunbeams  lay, 
like  a  flood  of  golden  lava,  over  the  deep  rich  verdure 
that  crowned  the  mountain  side. 

"  Soft  whispering  zephyrs,  heavy  with  the  fragrance  of 
aromatic  flowers,  came  floating  lazily  by,  mingled  with 
the  wild  birds'  gushing  melody  from  their  own  native 
bowers. 

"  Half  bewildered  with  the  intoxicating  scene,  I  knew 
not  that  I  had  been  making  any  advancement,  till  I 
found  myself  upon  the  dizzy  heights  of  the  mountain 
brow. 

" '  Behold,'  said  my  guide,  '  the  reward  of  persever- 
ance.' 

"  And  she  reached  forth  her  hand,  and  waived  a  glit- 
tering sceptre  over  broad  plains,  upon  which  the 
golden  sun  rays  lay  in  liquid  beauty. 


34  EPPIBANDi;OK, 

"  I  cast  my  eyes  upon  the  plains  below,  and  a  scene 
more  beautiful  than  imagination  had  ever  portrayed  to 
me,  met  my  wandering  vision.  * 

.  "  Cities  and  towns  lay  there,  interspersed  with  rich 
vales  and  flowing  streams.  Broad  fields,  where  the 
golden  harvest  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  sunlight  like 
the  ocean  waves. 

"  Deep  shady  woodlands,  where  birds  of  brilliant 
plumage  warbled  their  dehcious  songs,  all  met  my 
bewildered  gaze  ;  and  I  turned  inquiringly  to  my  guide. 
'  They  are  yours,'  she  said,  '  the  prize  is  at  the  end  of 
the  race.' 

"  Hadst  thou  remained  in  the   forest,  ere  this  thou 

wouldst  have  been  lost  in  oblivion.     Behold  the  reward 

^  of  perseverance  ! '      She  drew  from  her  girdle  a  laurel 

wreath,  upon  which   was  inscribed,  in  golden  letters, 

'  fame.' 

" '  I  crown  you,'  she  said,  twining  the  wreath  upon 
my  brow,  '  I  crown  you  the  rightful  monarch  here. 
My  castle  shall  be  your  fortress,  and  this  lofty  pinnacle 
your  throne.' 

" '  Who  art  thou  ? '  I  said,  casting  myself  in  be- 
wildered astonishment  at  her  feet. 

"  Her  long  flowing  mantle  fell  to  the  ground,  revealing 
a  face  and  form,  so  dazzlingly  beautiful.  —  Oh !  I  can 
never  describe  it ;  but  upon  her  fair,  Parian  brow,  rested 
a  lustrous  crown,  upon  which  glittered,  among  costly 
gems, '  Genius.' 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         35 

"  I  sprang  to  embrace  her,  and  awoke  only  to  find 
myself  lost  in  the  dark  forest  windings  and  thorny 
thickets  of  poverty,  or  laying  myself  hopelessly  down 
upon  the  fearful  brink  of  the  yawning  abyss  of  inaction 
and  despair.  But  the  crown  of  perseverance  I  may  still 
obtain,  by  following  the  genius  of  the  mountain,  the  '  I 
will,'  of  the  forest  windings.  It  is  that  magical  power 
which  will  carry  us  to  the  pinnacle  of  fame  and  foi^ 
tune,  and  spread  at  our  feet  the  broad  harvest  fields  and 
golden  sheaves,  bathed  in  Uquid  sunlight,  as  a  reward 
for  all  our  toil. 

".What  others  have  accomplished  before  me,  I  can 
accomplish,  I  will  accomplish.  Our  dear  mother  often 
told  us  that  God  would  help  those  who  would  help 
themselves.  And  I  believe  it.  But  I  must  leave  you  ; 
this  is  no  place  for  me.  My  path  to  the  mountain  may 
be  far  from  here,  but  I  know  that  the  God  whom  my 
sainted  mother  delighted  to  honor,  will  guide  me  to  it. 

"And  when  I  stand  upon  the  mountain's  height,  reaping 
the  laurels  which  toil  and  perseverance  have  strewn  for 
me,  then,  my  sisters,  you  shall  share  with  me  the  bless- 
ings of  Him  who  has  bereaved  us,  and  desolated  our 
home  in  our  hfe's  gushing  springtide.  Not  in  anger,  I 
trust,  has  He  shattered  our  earth-idols ;  but  in  merciful 
kindness,  that  we  might  become  heirs  with  them  to  an 
inheritance  which  no  death-king  can  wrest  from  us." 

We  prepared  as  best  we  could  the  scanty  wardrobe, 


36  EFFIEANDr. 

and  when  all  had  been  nicely  packed  within  the  little 
valise,  then  we  laid  upon  the  top  the  tiny  Bible,  with 
its  shining  clasp,  which  had  been  our  mother's  in  the 
days  of  happy  girlhood.  And  upon  a  delicate  fly-leaf 
we  traced  this  injunction :  "  Remember  thy  mother's 
instructions,  and  forget  not  the  teachings  which  her 
little  Bible  contains.  They  will  lead  you  safely  through 
the  dangerous  paths  of  youth,  and  crown  you  with 
honor  lofty  as  heaven,  and  endurable  as  eternity." 


CHAPTER    V. 

IHB  SEPARATIONS. — VISIT  OF  TWO  TOTING  LADIES  FROM  I/OWBLL. 
—  THEIR  GLOWING  DESCRIPTIONS  OP  FACTORY  LIFE.  —  MT 
RESOLVE   AND   TRIALS. 

ANOTHER  GREAT  trial  awaited  us.  Our 
father's  small  remittances  were  not  sufficient  for 
the  four  young  and  inexperienced  girls,  who  still  re- 
mained in  the  little  cot,  nestled  so  lovingly  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  old  oak-tree. 

There  were  no  manufactories,  no  needle-work,  no 
straw  braiding,  near  our  far-off  country  home,  that  we 
might  apply  ourselves  to  the  needful  task  of  money- 
making,  in  order  to  sustain  ourselves  comfortably  in  our 
loved,  though  desolate  home  ;  and  we  saw  no  alternative 
but  a  separation. 

Matta,  the  oldest  of  us,  was  a  brave,  healthy,  rosy- 
cheeked  girl,  who  neither  yielded  to  impossibilities,  nor 
crouched  before  the  tyrant,  who  swayed  his  fearful 
sceptre  around  our  little  dwelling. 

With  her  to  resolve,  was  to  execute.  Farmers'  wives 
were  busy  «Fith  the  wheel  and  the  loom,  and  she  met 
with  no  obstruction  in  procuring  a  place  (at  fifty  cents  a 
week),  well  suited  to  her  active  temperament  and  genial 


38  effieandt;    or, 

disposition,  with  a  well-to-do  farmer's  familj,  just  over 
the  hill,  all  in  sight  of  the  blue  smoke  which  rose  in 
graceful  curves  through  the  branches  of  the  old  oaK 
above  our  cottage  home. 

Then  there  was  little  Lula,  our  baby  sister,  with  knots 
of  shining  curls  clustering  all  around  her  fair  brow,  like  a 
cloud  of  sunbeam ;  and  her  pale,  fragile  sister-mate,  deli- 
cate as  the  snow-wreath,  and  sensitive  as  the  trembling 
aspen. 

They  must  be  separated.  They  who  had  slept  in  each 
other's  arms  almost  from  infancy ;  whose  every  thought 
and  expression  had  been  that  of  one  mind  ;  whose  lessons 
had  been  conned  from  the  same  book ;  who  had  romped  to- 
gether, chasing  the  shadows  and  the  sunbeams  upon  the 
green  turf,  beneath  the  old  oak  which  shook  his  heavy 
branches  playfully  to  the  passing  zephyrs. 

They  who  nightly,  with  hand  clasped  in  hand,  had 
mingled  their  voices  together  in  prayer  to  the  God  who 
shelters  the  motherless  lambs-of  the  flock  in  the  bosom 
of  His  divine  love. 

They  who  had  mingled  their  tears  in  childish  grief 
over  the  cold,  rigid  features  of  a  dead  mother,  and  won- 
dered if  she  would  not  send  for  them  to  come  to  her 
beautiful  home  in  the  far  blue  sky,  that  the  good  angels 
had  prepared  for  her.  • 

Oh,  they  had  been  very  happy  till  mother  died ;  for 
she  had  sheltered  her  little  flock  with  tenderest  solici- 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN     A    COTTON    MILL.         39 

tude,  till  the  death-angel  called  'her  away,  and  placed 
upon  her  brow  the  dazzling  coronet  prepared  for  those 
who  so  faithfully  perform  their  earth-mission. 

But  now  she  could  no  longer  ward  off  the  merciless  fangs 
of  the  gaunt  tyrant,  which  stalked  so  fearfully  around 
our  quiet  home ;  and  they,  our  baby-  sisters,  must  be 
separated,  and  seek  a  shelter  by  a  stranger's  fireside. 

None  but  God  saw  the  tears  that  were  shed  by  the 
flickering  flames  of  our  desolate  hearthstone.  None  but 
God  heard  the  cries  -and  prayers  of  anguish  that  went 
up  from  our  bruised  and  bleeding  hearts  to  Him  who 
heedeth  the  sparrow's  fall,  and  clothes  the  lilies  of  the 
field  in  their  beautiful  raiment. 

None  but  God  knew  how  mercilessly  the  gaunt  tyrant 
clutched  at  our  vitals,  or  chilled  the  warm  life-blood  in 
our  young  veins,  to  satisfy  his  imperious  and  relentless 
demands. 

And  so  our  baby  sisters  were  separated  miles  away, 
and  I  remained  alone  in  that  desolate  home. 

No  language  can  portray  the  anguish  of  my  heart,  as 
I  wept  and  prayed  to  the  orphan's  God  for  strength  to 
go  out  into  the  pitiless  world,  and  to  bear  meekly  the 
burden  which  He  had  laid  upon  me. 

I  opened  the  old  family  Bible  ^ my  mother's  Bible  — 
to  Psalm  91st.  I  felt  that  the  words  were  prophetic,  and 
arose  from  my  kneeling  position  comforted  and  strength- 
ened in  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well. 

Some  young  ladies  had  just  returned  from  Lowell,  and 


40  BFFIEANDi;OR, 

by  their  glowing  descrij)tions  of  factory  life,  induced  me, 
with  some  of  my  young  associates,  to  return  with  them  to 
the  busy  Spindle  City. 

Always  of  a  delicate  constitution  and  feeble  health,  I 
could  not,  with  Matta,  engage  in  the  more  hardy  employ- 
ments of  domestic  life,  and  I  had  no  means  to  devote 
myself  to  study  and  the  fine  arts  which  I  had  so  ar- 
dently and  hopefully  desired. 

And  so  I,  who  had  scarcely  ever  lost  sight  of  my  cot- 
tage home  and  the  old  oak  swaying  its  branches  so 
lovingly  above  it,  resolved  to  venture  far  away,  and 
become  an  operative  in  a  cotton  mill. 

The  very  idea  was  repulsive  to  my  dehcate  and  sensi- 
tive nature.  Must  I  go  where  the  learned  and  the  un- 
learned, the  old  and  young,  beauty  and  ughness,  virtue 
and  vice,  all  mingled  together  in  one  common  mass, 
with  no  nice  distinctions  by  the  lookers-on,  but  all  placed 
upon  the  low  vulgar  grade  of  "  Operatives  ?  "  But  there 
seemed  no  alternative ;  necessity  compelled  me,  and  I 
had  only  to  obey  her  mandates. 

I  sought  the  little  room  where  my  mother's  last  look 
rested  upon  me ;  where  her  last  breath  embalmed  my 
brow  like  a  holy  anointing  from  the  spirit  world.  And 
there  I  knelt  and  prayed  to  Him  who  had  said,  "  When 
thy  father  and  thy  mother  forsake  thee,  then  I  will  take 
thee  up." 

I  there  and  then  committed  myself  to  his  merciful 
care,  and  felt  that  my  trust  was  not  in  vain. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    41 

It  seemed  that  the  spirit  of  my  sainted  mother  was 
hovering  over  me,  and  that  she  would  be  my  guardian 
angel  in  a  far-off  stranger's  home. 

I  looked  around  the  apartment  for  some  little  relic  of 
my  mother's,  that  I  might  treasure  it  as  a  sacred  me- 
mento of  her  and  my  childhood's  home,  when  far  away. 

A  dress  lay  carefully  folded  within  the  little  wardrobe. 
It  was  the  last  dress  that  my  mother  had  worn  in  life.  I 
would  take  that,  ^nd  every  time  I  looked  upon  it  I  should 
see  my  mother,  I  should  feel  her  presence  with  me.* 

Oh,  how  sacred  it  seemed  to  me  then ;  no  eyes  but 
mine  should  look  upon  it,  no  stranger's  hand  should  dese- 
crate it ;  for,  sacred  as  the  pearl  of  great  price,  I  would 
keep  and  preserve  it.  Then,  after  penning  a  little  son- 
net to  my  "  Childhood's  Home,"  I  bade  it  a  long  and  sad 
farewell.  I  will  here  repeat  a  few  verses,  and  then  pro- 
ceed with  my  story. 

ADIEU,  MY  CHILDHOOD'S  HOME. 

Adieu,  my  childhood's  home,  adieu ! 

My  grotto,  streamlet,  dell, 
My  parting  tribute  is  to  you, 

A  tear  and  sad  farewell. 
Beneath  thy  shades  I've  wandered  free, 

Nor  care,  nor  sorrow  knew, 
No  longer  bloom  thy  joys  for  me  — 

My  childhood's  home,  adieu  ! 

*  That  dress  is  mine  still. 
4* 


42  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

Adieu  each  towering,  misty  height, 

By  our  familiar  bowers  — 
My  mountain  streams  arrayed  in  light, 

Where  laves  the  sunlit  flowers. 
How  oft  thy  undulating  notes, 

Low  murmuring  to  the  sea. 
Entranced,  with  witching  power,  my  thoughts 

In  dreams  of  ecstasy. 

Though  other  scenes  call  me  away, 

No  joys  my  bosom  fill ; 
For  memory,  with  her  chast'ning  ray. 

Will  twine  around  me  still. 
While  soft  o'er  each  endearing  scene, 

Hope  spreads  her  magic  wand ; 
Dispelling  clouds  that  darkly  seem 

To  veil  my  native  land. 

My  childhood's  home,  to  me  how  fair, 

Beneath  thy  wildwood  shade. 
Where  with  a  parent's  shielding  care 

And  joyous  heart  I  strayed  ; 
Thy  skies  reflect  a  deeper  blue. 

When  mirrored  in  the  tide. 
And  brighter  glows  the  sunset  hue 

That  tints  the  even-tide. 

When  twilight  o'er  the  azure  sky 
Her  soft  enchantments  throw, 

And  summer  zephyrs  passing  by 
Where  strains  all  gently  flow. 

Like  lute-strings  swept  by  fairie's  hand 

■  Far  o'er  the  clear  blue  sea  ; 

Thus  o'er  me  steals  my  native  land. 
Sweet  memories  of  thee. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    43 

If  e'er  from  dreary  wanderings 

I  reach  my  childhood's  home, 
Then  nanght  from  my  own  mountain  streams 

Shall  tempt  my  feet  to  roam  ; 
I  leave  thee  with  a  kind  farewell, 

While  tears  mine  eyes  bedew, 
And  fond  emotions  inly  swell, 

My  childhood's  home,  adieu  ! 

You  must  remember  that  I  was  young,  and  little  used 
to  verse-making ;  but  it  was  the  heart's  tributary  fare- 
well, and  as  such  I  present  it  to  you. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MY  JOURNEY  TO  LOWELL.  — THE  ARRIVAL.  —  FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 
—  FIRST  INTRODUCTION  INTO  THE  BOARDING-HOUSE  AND  COT- 
TON   MILL. 

THREE  D.R  E  A  R  Y  days  —  dreary  because  the 
sun  had  hid  his  smiles  and  radiance  behind  the 
murky  clouds,  while  the  heavy  fogs  and  chilling  mists 
enveloped  us  like  the  gloomy  folds  of  a  sable  pall  —  we 
were  tossed  and  jostled  in  an  old  lumbering  stage-coach, 
which  was  then  the  only  public  conveyance  from  the 
home  of  our  nativity  to  the  nearest  railroad  station,  on 
our  way  to  the  Spindle  City. 

Weary  and  worn,  we  arrived  there  just  as  the  setting 
sun  was  guilding  the  tops  of  the  tall  steeples  which  met 
our  longing  visions  so  cheeringly  in  the  distance. 

We  crossed  the  bridge  which  spanned  the  majestic 
Merrimac,  and  was  soon  set  down  amidst  a  cluster  of 
long  brick  blocks,  termed  by  our  initiated  companions, 
"  Factory  Boarding-houses." 

Then  came  another  trial.  There  were  several  of  us, 
"  green  hands,"  who  had  never  seen  the  inside  nor  the 
outside  of  a  cotton  mill.  We  could  not  all  find  em- 
ployment in  one  room  or  mill ;  nor  even  could  we  all 
be  provided  for  within  the  several  mills  of  one  corpo- 
ration. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN     A     COTTON    MILL.         45 

•  So  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  be  the  stray  lamb  again ;  and, 
after  a  weary  and  discouraging  search,  a  vacancy  was 

discovered  in  a  weaving  room,  on  the  H Corporation, 

about  a  mile  distant  from  where    my  companions  had 

been  located. 

» 

A  boarding-house  was  the  next  consideration ;  but 
there  waS  no  choice  in  selection.  Wherever  there  was. 
a  vacancy  or  spare  corner  in  a  bed,  there  I  must 
locate. 

At  last  one  vacancy  was  discovered,  the  only  vacancy 
on  the  corporation  ;  for  it  was  the  season  of  gathering 
in,  from  hamlet  and  cot,  of  youths  and  maidens  desirous 
of  securing  a  permanent  location  through  the  approach- 
ing winter. 

Well,  my  httle  trunk  found  an  obscure  corner  in  the 
"upper  front"  of  No.  5,  and  I  a  small  space  in  the 
narrow  bed  appropriated  to  me  and  a  fat,  blousy  maiden 
from  the  old  Granite  State,  who  was  troubled  exceed- 
ingly with  scrofula  and  salt  rheum ;  so  much  so,  that  I 
often  found  it  necessary  to  lay  my  weary,  aching  head 
upon  the  hard  beam,  in  preference  to  the  pillow  which 
was  intended  for  both  our  use. 

Beneath  us  was  a  trundle-bed  where  an  old  grandma 
and  her  foster  child  found  repose.  And  to  the  left,  another 
bed  in  close  proximity,  occupied  by  two  spinster  sisters, 
who  had,  years  ago,  "  been  through  the  mill,"  and  could 
tell  us  wondrous  tales  of  "  reductionSj"  and  "  turnouts," 
and  " stump  speeches,"  and  "serenades,"  and  "dona- 


46  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

tions,"  and  "  clerical  sympathy,"  and  "  legal  interfei* 
ence,"  winding  up  with  a  grand  stampede  back  to  the 
loom  and  spinning-frame,  with  acknowledgments  and 
promises  again  to  walk  worthy  of  the  vocation  to  which 
they  had  been  called. 

Such  were  my  sleeping-room  companions  of  that  fac- 
tory boarding-house. 

By  dint  of  much  consideration  and  skilful  manoeuvring, 
a  seat  was  provided  for  me  upon  a  low  bench  by  the 
sidfe  of  one  of  the  long  tables  extending  through  the 
dining-hall,  where  I  was  seated  in  a  most  unceremonious 
manner  between  a  brawny  lassie  from  the  Emerald  Isle 
and  a  Green  Mountain  boy,  who  kept  up  a  continual 
animosity  and  sharpshooting  of  bombshells,  in  the  shape 
of  potato-parings  and  apple-sauce,  taking  me,  without 
leave  or  license,  for  their  wall  of  defence  in  the  hottest 
of  their  hostile  affray. 

In  the  mean  time,  while  I  managed  as  best  I  could,  by 
dint  of  dodging  and  crouching,  to  escape  the  flying  mis- 
siles, my  opposite  neighbors  had  taken  upon  themselves 
the  responsibility  of  annihilating  the  meat,  vegetables,- 
and  staff  of  life,  sending  them  all  together  to  oblivion ; 
for  no  traces  of  them  were  left  to  the  longing  vision  of  a 
hungry  soul. 

"  Every  man  for  himself.  Miss,  in  a  factory  boarding- 
house,"  said  a  gray-haired  man,  on  witnessing  my  aston- 
ishment at  the  rapidly  disappearing  edibles.  "  We 
should  starve  on  complimentary  gentility.     There  is  a 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN     A     COTTON    MILL.         47 

slice  for  each,  and  a  slice  for  all  ;  but  woe  to  him  who 
tarrieth  by  the  way ;  for  there  are  no  loaves  and  fishes, 
nor  the  fragments  thereof,  to  be  gathered  up  after  the 
cravings  of  the  multitude  have  been  appeased." 

In  the  morning  we  were  hui'ried  from  our  restless 
slumbers  by  the  loud  booming  of  the  bells  to  the  break- 
fast table.  But  the  sour  bread,  rancid  butter,  and  the 
unpalatable  substitute  for  coffee,  sweetened  with  the 
sugar  of  molasses'  casks,  gave  me  such  a  sickening  sen- 
sation, that  I  turned  away  with  disgust  from  the  sight 
and  steam  of  such  unpalatable  preparations. 

I  wept,  as  I  turned  with  loathing  from  the  untasted 
food,  and  my  thoughts  reverted  to  the  past,  when  my 
mother's  little  hands  had  prepared  the  sweet  corn-cakes, 
fresh  butter,  and  bowl  of  rich  warm  milk  for  our  morn- 
ing's repast. 

"All  the  boarding-houses  are  hot  like  this,"  said  a 
young  girl  from  my  own  native  State,  who  had  been  a 
witness  of  my  tears  and  loathings  and  untasted  food  for 
several  previous  mornings.  "  I  have  engaged  the  first 
vacancy  at  No.  10.  Two  of  the  boarders  are  already 
on  their  notice,  and  if  you  wish  to  a'ccompany  me,  I  will 
make  an  engagement  for  you  to-day.  There  you  will 
find  clean  dishes,  nice  warm  biscuits,  and  butter  and 
coffee  that  even  your  delicate  taste  will  not  turn  from 
with  disgust." 

I  eagerly  assented  to  the  arrangement,  and  with  the 
hope  of  better  days  in  prospective,  met  more  cheerfully 


48  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

the  disgusting  privations  which  attended  me  in  that  un- 
congenial and  comfortless  abiding-place. 

I  found  that  factory  life  was  not  all  a  pleasant  pastime. 
The  whirl  and  bustle,  the  din  and  clatter  of  machinery, 
wrought  harshly  upon  my  sensitive  nerves,  causing 
excruciating  headaches,  sickening  sensations,  and  long- 
ings for  the  peaceful  quietude  and  retirements  of  my 
dear  native  home.  Alas  1  for  the  lone  wanderer,  it 
would  never  be  home  again. 

A  few  weeks  of  preparatory  instructions  from  an 
experienced  weaver,  and  then  I  was  placed  in  charge 
of  a  pair  of  looms,  beside  a  girl  as  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced as  myself. 

She  had  the  misfortune  of  a  handsome  face,  and  spent 
much  of  her  time  before  the  little  glass  which  hung  upon 
the  opposite  wall.  Her  work  was  neglected,  and  oft  the 
threadless  shuttle  would  bound  with  fearful  velocity  into 
the  warp  which  I  had  just  managed,  with  the  assistance 
of  an  older  hand,  to  coax  into  tolerable  running  order, 
and  before  I  could  prevent  the  mischief,  her  shuttle  and 
mine,  like  fearful  opponents,  were  cutting  down  and 
making  waste  of  the  threads  and  fabric  I  had  so  wearily 
and  hopefully  attended. 

Then,  when  all  was  in  running  order  again,  a  fearful 
whiz  and  stunning  blow  from  its  neglected  and  threadless 
mate,  would  send  me  reeling  and  fainting  to  my  seat, 
with  a  fearful  contusion '  upon  my  brow  or  temples, 
bursting  with  pain  and  indignation  at  the  neglect  which 


SEVEN    TEARS     IN    A     COTTON     MILL.         49 

had  wrought  upon  me  so  much  trouble  and  toil.  In 
every  waj,  I  seemed  in  momentary  peril  of  my  limbs  or 
life.  If  I  sought  refuge  from  the  flying  shuttles  on  the 
other  side,  then  the  swift  revolving  of  the  whizzing  clogs 
and  heavy  belts  would  draw,  like  the  treacherous  whirl- 
pool, my  garments  into  their  fearful  embrace.  Or  the 
belts  would  break  loose  from  the  heavy  drums,  and,  like 
the  fiery  fangs  of  the  flying  dragon,  clutch  me  fearfully 
in  their  angry  grasp. 

After  a  while  things  assumed  a  more  cheering  aspect. 
The  handsome  girl,  who  was  only  a  "  spare  hand," 
resigned  her  place  to  the  rightful  owner,  a  quiet,  intel- 
ligent girl,  who  had  been  on  a  visit  to  her  friends  and 
home  in  a  neighboring  State. 

I  had  become  more  accustomed  to  the  whiz  and  whirl 
of  the  machinery,  and  had  learned  the  art  not  only  of 
keeping  my  threads  and  spirits  up',  but  of  dodging  a 
flying  shuttle,  and  the  treacherous  fangs  of  the  sweep- 
ing dragon. 

I  left  my  "  bed  and  board  "  at  No.  5,  and  refused 
longer  to  remain  a  target  for  the  Green  Mountain  boy 
and  his  Irish  lassie. 

No.  10  was  a  home  for  young  ladies,  —  intelligent 
and  church-going  young  ladies.  The  dishes  were  clean, 
meats  palatable,  the  beds  and  rooms  kept  in  perfect 
order,  and  every  thing  as  quiet  and  domesticated  as  a 
pious  maiden  lady  could  wish  or  devise. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

LETTERS   FROM   HOME. — MATTA'S   MABRIAGE. — SUDDEN   DEATH 
OF   O0R   FATHER.  —  MY    TREASURE. — A   BROTHER'S    GRAVE. 

A  YEAR  PASSED  away,  and  I  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  at  home  and  happy,  often  receiving 
sisterly  testimonials  from  Matta,  Minnie,  and  Lula ; 
and  sometimes  I  would  make  them  retui'ns  in  the  shape 
of  a  few  dollars,  nicely  secured  within  the  folds  of  my 
little  note. 

One  day  two  letters  came  to  my  address.  One  was 
from  dear,  dear  brother,  written  in  a  cheerful,  hopeful, 
encouraging  tone,  characteristic  of  his  noble,  ardent, 
and  sanguine  nature ;  telling  me  how  rapidly  he  was 
progressing  in  his  studies,  under  the  tuition  of  his  kind 
instructors  and  benefactors ;  pointing  me  hopefully  for- 
ward to  the  future,  when  the  little  scattered  flock  would 
once  more  nestle  lovingly  together  within  the  same  fold, 
never  again  to  be  driven  out  by  the  grim,  meagre  tyrant, 
Want. 

The  other  was  from  Matta;  her's  was  written  in  a 
free,  easy,  hopeful  tone,  as  they  ever  had  been,  inform- 
ing me  of  her  late  marriage  with  a  young  mechanic. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         51 

"  You  will  be.  surprised  at  this,  Rosa,"  she  said, 
"  knowing  as  you  did  of  my  previous  engagement  to 
Walter  Seaton,  who  has  just  entered  upon  his  profession 
of  M.  D.  I  have  kept  you  in  ignorance  of  all  that  has 
transpired  in  regard  to  us  for  the  past  year,  fearing  that 
it  might  give  you  unnecessary  pain.  But  now  it  is  all 
over,  and  the  future,  perhaps,  will  show  us  that  it  was  all 
for  the  best. 

"  Walter,  you  know,  belonged  to  a  family  which  made 
some  pretensions  to  aristocracy.  His  sister  had  married 
a  man  who  hved  in  a  fine  house  and  kept  an  elegant 
carriage.  She  can  assume  the  position  of  a  lady  of 
fashion,  with  servants  at  her  command,  to  do  her  every 
bidding. 

"  When  she  had  become  acquainted  with  our  dis- 
tressed situation,  and  learned  the  fact  that  I,  her 
brother's  intended,  was  a  hireling,  she  forbade,  upon  the 
authority  of  an  elder  sister,  all  further  intercourse 
between  us,  on  pain  of  her  everlasting  displeasure. 

"  Walter  was  under  some  obligations  to  her  for  money 
remittances  during  his  collegiate  acquirements,  and 
also  had  the  promise  of  assistance  in  conamencing  his 
medical  profession. 

"  He  saw  no  alternative  but  acquiescence  to  her  un- 
reasonable demands  ;  and  forthwith  sought  an  interview 
with  me,  desiring  me  to  release  him  from  the  vows  we 
had  previously  and  sacredly  plighted. 


•52  EFFIEANl)i;OR, 

"  I  would  hold  no  unwilling  captives,"  I  said.  "  If 
freedom  from  those  sacred  vows  would  make  him 
honored  and  happy,  then  he  should  be  free.  But,"  I 
added,  "  Retributions  sometimes  follow  hard  upon  the 
heel  of  the  inconstant  and  faithless.  He  who  has  reg- 
istered our  vows  will  judge  between  us. 

"  You  remember  Ada  Morton,  that  cold,  proud, 
contemptuous  girl  who  spumed  the  very  dust  beneath 
her  dainty  feet.  Well,  in  all  Seclusivale,  not  one  had 
even  dared  to  bow  before  the  regal  throne  of  her  forbid- 
ding haughtiness. 

"  Walter,  or  rather  his  wealthy  sister,  thought  that 
she  might  be  a  fitting  bride  to  bear  his  honored  name ; 
and  so,  after  a  few  preliminary  negotiations,  they  made 
immediate  preparations  for  the  nuptials,  which  were  to 

be  celebrated  a  day  or  two  before  his  removal  to  P , 

a   section   made   vacant  by  the   demise   of    a  former 
occupant. 

"  The  wedding,  I  understand,  was  a  magnificent  afiair ; 

for  Madam  R ,  the  sister  of  the  groom,  spared  no 

pains  or  money  to  make  it  all  her  haughty  vanity  could 
desire. 

"  And  I  am  married  too,  and  shall  soon  be  the  mis- 
tress of  an  humble,  though  I  trust  a  happy  home." 

A  hasty  postscript  was  appended  as  follows : 

"  Dear  Rosa,  the  painful  intelligence  has  just  reached 
me,  since  writing  the  above,  of  the  sudden  death  of  our 
father  from  a  malignant  fever. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    53 

"  Erst  a  stout,  erect,  and  portly  man,  he  had  assumed 
the  stoop  and  debility  of  age,  and,  therefore,  became  an 
easy  victim  to  the  fell  destroyer,  death. 

"  When,  oh  when  will  death's  ravages  cease  amongst 
us  ?  When  will  his  fearful  commission  be  withdrawn 
from  our  little  band  ?  When  will  the  wail  of  anguish 
cease  to  go  out  from  our  bereaved  and  bleeding  hearts  ? 
When  will  the  pall-like  gloom,  which  for  years  has  over- 
shadowed us,  be  cheered  by  the  dawning  of  prosperity 
and  hope  ? 

"  Above  these  dark  clouds  may  be  the  sunbeams 
which  will  dry  up  our  tears  and  light  with  joy  our 
future  pathway. 

"  Let  us  hope  and  trust  in  the  orphan's  God,  and 
claim  his  promises,  which  are  sure  as  eternity,  and 
unchanging  as  the  Rock  of  Ages." 

Again  I  must  drink  of  the  wormwood  and  the  gall, 
and  quaff  alone  its  bitterest  dregs.  Those  who  had 
mourned  with  me  in  former  bereavements  were  far 
away.  There  were  none  to  understand  my  grief  or  to 
sympathize  with  me  in  that  time  of  bitter  distress.  Oh 
that  I  could  fly  away  to  that  dear,  deserted  home,  and 
tell  my  anguish  to  its  silent  walls  with  the  tears  and 
wailings  of  my  orphaned  and  bleeding  heart  ! 

Oh  that  I  could  press  my  aching  head  and  throbbing 
bosom,  to  some  dear  and  familiar  object  of  home,  —  the 
pillow  where  my  mother  died,  the  old  arm-chair,  or  her 
■well-worn  Bible  on  the  shelf  ! 


54  ErFIEANDi;OR, 

Her  dress!  I  grasped  it  eagerly  from  its  secret 
hiding-place,  and  drenched  it  with  the  scalding  tears 
which  gushed  up  from  my  breaking  heart. 

My  mother  was  with  me  ;  I  felt  her  presence  as  visi- 
bly as  when  her  gentle  spirit  was  clothed  with  the  mortal. 
How  soothing  her  soft  spirit-whisperings ;  how  cheering 
the  inspirations  which  enveloped  me,  like  a  halo  of  light 
from  the  golden  gates  and  sapphire  throne  of  the  Im- 
maculate. 

Many  times  before,  I  had  wept  and  prayed  over  that 
little  memento,  and  I  always  felt  that  my  mother  was 
with  me,  soothing,  x)omforting,  and  encouraging  me 
through  my  lone,  rough,  shadowy  pathway. 

Worlds  of  wealth  would  not,  could  not  purchase  the 
garment  which  my  mother  laid  aside  for  her  burial 
robes  and  an  angel's  garb.  I  was  no  longer  alone. 
Every  day  some  sweet  vision  of  the  departed  loved  ones 
flitted  before  me  with  soft,  soothing,  encouraging  whis- 
perings ;  and,  with  renewed  vigor  and  hope,  I  resumed 
my  daily  tasks,  with  the  assurance  that  my  mother's 
God  would  lead  me  safely  through  the  rugged  paths  of 
life  to  her  blessed  abode  in  the  happy  spirit-world. 

Several  months  passed  away  in  a  calm,  quiet,  monot- 
onous way,  for  factory  Ufe  is  one  continual  round  of 
sameness,  year  after  year,  save  now  and  then  a  new 
comer,  or  a  vacancy  caused  by  the  sickness,  death,  or 
absence  of  faces,  with  which  our  vision  had  been  famil- 
iar for  days  and  weeks  and  months  before. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         55 

I  had  replenished  mj  wardrobe,  and  accumulated 
quite  a  little  sum,  aside  from  the  small  remittances  made 
now  and  then  to  Minnie  and  Lula. 

The  din  and  clatter  of  machinery  was  no  longer  an 
annoyance ;  it  destroyed  the  sound  of  uncongenial 
voices  ;  the  coarse  joke  and  vulgar  song  were  lost  in  its 
familiar  din  ;  and,  undisturbed,  I  could  commune  with  my 
own  heart  and  the  guardian  spirits  which  ever  attended 
me. 

I  relieved  much  of  the  dull  monotony  of  factory  life 
with  books  and  pen.  Many  little  sonnets  I  composed 
while  bending  busily  over  my  daily  task.  One  I  will 
repeat  to  you  here.  It  was  a  tribute  to  the  brave  and 
noble  sailor  boy,  our  brother  Frank. 

A  BROTHER'S  GRAVE. 

He  has  gone  to  his  rest,  but  'tis  not  where  the  dark  pine, 
The  willow  and  cypi-ess  a  plaintive  dirge  sing  ; 

'Tis  not  where  the  wild  rose,  the  sweet-brier  and  woodbine 
Around  him  in  silence  their  rich  fragrance  fling. 

No  cold  sculptured  marble  is  reared  for  his  pillow, 
No  mound  marks  the  spot  where  he  silently  sleeps  ; 

For  he  lies  'neath  the  dark  foamy  surf  of  the  billow  — 
And  naught  but  the  sea-star  a  watch  o'er  him  keeps. 

The  sea-nymph  that  rocks  on  the  breast  of  the  ocean, 

A  garland  to  memory  will  twine  o'er  the  dead. 
And  cheer  by  her  smiles  the  rude  tempest's  commotion. 

While  sweetly  she  sings  o'er  his  wave-girdled  bed. 


56  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

Best,  peacefully  rest,  beneath  thy  loved  ocean, 
No  more  shall  thy  bark  proudly  ride  o'er  the  wave  ; 

No  more  will  thy  breast  beat  with  raptured  emotion, 
For  it  lies  with  the  gem  'neath  its  pearl-crested  cave. 

When  the  purified  throng  shall  have  reached  their  bright  haven, 
With  them  may  we  join  in  the  songs  of  the  blest ; 

Where  no  tear  dims  the  eye,  and  no  lone  heart  is  riven  — 
Where  the  weary  with  God  are  forever  at  rest. 


CHAPTER    yill. 

OUR    LAST    BROTHER   DIES    IN    NEW    ORLEANS. THE    SACRILEGE    IX 

OUR  childhood's  home. — Minnie's  marriage.  —  lula  with 

ME   in   LOWELL. 

A  FEW  MONTHS  more  passed  awaj,  and 
then  another  letter  came,  with  the  astounding  in- 
telligence that  our  last,  our  only  brother,  had  been  called 
suddenly,  in  the  bloom  of  youth  and  health,  to  meet  his 
God  and  the  friends  who  had  gone  before,  to  the  man- 
sions of  rest  in  the  city  of  His  holiness. 

He  had  gone,  buoyant  with  health  and  youthful  antici- 
pations, with  his  friend  and  instructor,  to  spend  the 
winter  in  the  far  South. 

It  was  the  sickly  season.  The  fever  was  making 
fearful  ravages  throughout  the  city,  sweeping  down,  hke 
the  plague  and  pestilence,  the  young  and  old,  rich  and 
poor,  bond  and  free.  And  before  they  had  been  resi- 
dents of  New  Orleans  three  days,  my  brother  and  his 
kind  benefactor  were  filling  a  stranger's  grave. 

My  heart  died  within  me.  I  could  not  be  comforted. 
And  many  and  many  a  day  I  lay  upon  my  bed  almost 
insensible  to  every  thing  but  the    bereavements  which 


58  BPFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

had  shrouded  my  heart  and  desolated  the  home  of  my 
childhood. 

Our  dear,  dear  brother !  how  hopefully  he  had  parted 
with  us  at  the  cottage  door,  where  the  old  oak  was  nod- 
ding a  kindly  farewell  to  the  young  adventurer. 

How  cheeringly  he  wrote  to  us  in  his  absence  ;  point- 
ing us  forward  to  a  future  of  pleasure  and  plenty,  when 
he  had  become  master  of  the  profession  for  which  he  was 
so  hopefully  striving.  Alas,  for  that  future !  no  earth- 
greeting  would  ever  behold  it. 

While  we  were  struggling  with  the  heavy  bereavements 
which  had  so  suddenly  and  fearfully  stricken  our  young 
hearts,  sacrilegious  hands  were  making  fearful  ravages 
within  the  silent  walls  of  our  desolate  home. 

Every  choice  keepsake  and  available  article  was  pil- 
fered, one  after  another,  from  thence,  till  nothing  re- 
mained for  the  weeping  sisters,  who  were  struggling  with 
the  bereaving  rod  and  their  relentless  fate,  in  a  stran- 
ger's home. 

Our  mother's  Bible  and  chair  were  stealthily  con- 
veyed to  one  abode,  while  other  articles  of  furniture  were 
secreted  here  and  there  in  other  homes,  till  nothing  re- 
mained to  welcome  us  back  but  the  silent  walls  and  the 
old  oak-tree  swaying  its  branches  mournfully  above  them. 

Three  years  had  passed  away  before  I  returned  to  my 
childhood's  home,  and  then  the  house  was  gone  too,  and 
the  old  oak-tree.      But  the  graves  of  some  of  the  loved 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A     COTTON    MILL.         59 

ones  were  there,  and  the  turf  seemed  too  sacred  for  my 
feet  to  press. 

With  awe  and  reverence  I  bowed  my  head,  and 
watered  it  with  the  tears  which  gushed  out  from  a 
breaking  heart. 

Matta,  soon  after  her  marriage,  had  removed  to  a 
distance ;  and  Minnie  and  Luk  were  too  far  away  to 
know  aught  of  what  was  passing  in  our  little  cot. 

And  so  the  sacrilegious  hand  was  not  stayed,  till  all 
had  been  pilfered  by  those  stealthy  ravagers. 

"  0  God ! "  I  cried,  "  all  this  injustice  and  outrage 
beneath  that  Holy  Eye  which  cannot  look  upon  sin  with 
any  degree  of  pleasure  !  All  this  beneath  the  scales  of 
justice  thine  own  strong  hand  poises  above  them  and 
their  wicked  acts  !  All  this  within  the  precincts  of  civil- 
ization and  the  Holy  Bible,  which  says,  '  Thou  shalt  not 
steal  nor  covet !  " 

I  knew  that  all  those  sinful  acts  had  been  registered 
by  Him  who  judges  the  people  in  righteousness.  And 
although  His  judgments  are  sometimes  slow,  yet  they  are 
sure  ;  and  are  like  the  heavy  mill-stone,  grinding  to  pow- 
der the  wicked  transgressors. 

Minnie  had  grown  up  a  handsome,  laughing  girl,  of  a 
mild  and  pleasant  disposition,  graceful  and  attractive  in 
deportment,  and,  while  yet  young,  was  married  to  a 
handsome  youth,  and  removed  many  miles  away  from 
our  native  home. 


60  epfieandt;or, 

Lula,  our  baby-pet,  now  a  tall,  graceful,  intelligent  girl, 
accompanied  me  to  the  Spindle  City. 

But  the  confinements  of  factory  life,  exposure  from  the 
heated  rooms  to  the  cold  atmosphere  and  fierce  storms 
of  winter,  wrought  so  fearfully  upon  her  delicate  con- 
stitution, that  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  abandon 
her  labors  in  that  locaUty,  and  return  to  the  more  healthy 
and  congenial  pursuits  of  domestic  country  life. 

She  therefore  bade  me  an  affectionate  adieu,  and  re- 
turned to  Matta,  who  was  the  happy  mother  of  a  prattUng 
girl,  with  the  roses  and  sunshine  of  two  laughing  sum- 
mers twined  around  her  fair  white  brow,  to  whom  she  had 
given  the  name  of  our  sainted  mother,  and  also  of  a  cherub 
baby  boy,  who  bore  the  name  of  that  loved  brother  who 
was  filling  a  stranger's  grave  in  a  southern  clime. 

Time  passed  on,  and  then  another  letter  came ;  and, 
within  it,  a  deUcate  bridal  card,  and  a  tiny  flaxen  curl 
carefully  secured  to  the  well-filled  sheet. 

The  card  informed  me  that  our  little  Lula  had  given 
her  heart  and  hand  to  a  young  and  enterprising  me- 
chanic, and  was  already  mistress  of  a  very  pretty  home, 

in  the  village  of  M ,  with  the  best  regards  of  her 

husband  and  self  to  sister  Rosa,  and  a  cordial  invitation 
that  she  might  soon  be  one  of  their  happy  group. 

"  You  are  lonely  there,  Rosa,"  she  continued,  "  and 
need  the  quiet  repose  and  sympathy  of  our  home  and 
hearts,  and  also  the  pure,  invigorating  air  of  tl:e  healthful 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON     MILL.         Ql 

country.  Come  to  us.  There  is  room  in  our  home  and 
hearts,  and  dear,  dear  Frank  wants  to  see  his  sister 
Rosa." 

•  That  httle  flaxen  ringlet !  "0  Matta !  Matta !  my 
heart  bleeds  for  you.  Has  the  death-angel  indeed  found 
his  way  to  your  happy  home  ?  Has  he  laid  his  cold  icy 
hand  upon  the  pure  white  brow  and  laughing  Hps  of  your 
first-born  ?  Has  he  hushed  the  childish  prattle  and  the 
soft  pattering  of  tiny  feet  upon  the  cottage  floor  ?  Has 
he  closed  those  lustrous  eyes,  so  pure  and  saint-like  in 
expression,  and  folded  the  slender,  waxen  fingers  nerve- 
lessly upon  the  pulseless  bosom  ?  Has  he  pierced  your 
heart  anew,  and  giveii  you  yet  another  cup  to  quaflf 
the  gall  of  bitterness  to  the  very  dregs  ?  Oh,  stay ! 
stay  thy  hand,  thou  mighty  destroying  conqueror ! 
Let  thy  past  desolations  sufiice  thee,  which  thou  hast 
wrought  in  the  home  of  our  childhood !  And  spare, 
oh  spare  the  little  remaining  remnant  from  thy  scourg- 
ing rod." 

Many  a  bitter  tear  I  wept  for  that  household  pet. 
Many  a  heartfelt  invocation  I  sent  up  to  our  God  and 
her  God,  for  that  young  and  sorrowing  mother,  that  her 
home,  as  ours  had  been,  might  not  be  darkened  and 
desolated  by  that  fell  destroyer,  death. 

S6on  after  Lula's  marriage  I  received"  an.  invitation  to 
go  to  the  South,  or  rather  to  the  south-west.     But  to  me 

6. 


68  EFriEANDi;OR, 

there  seemed  no  place  like  a  New  England  home,  even 
though  it  was  within  the  crowded  walls  of  a  factory- 
boarding-house. 

I  therefore  immediately  penned  a  note  to  the  one  who 
had  kindly  tendered  me  the  invitation,  accompanied  by 
the  following  lines,  suggested  by  the  above  solicitation. 


MY   OWN    NEW    ENGLAND    HOME. 

Oh,  tell  me  not  of  distant  climes, 

Where  palms  their  broad  leaves  wave. 
And  where  the  weeping  willow  twines 

Its  branches  o'er  the  waves  ;  — 
Oh,  tell  me  not  of  skies  so  fair. 

And  deeply  shaded  bowers, 
And  say  not  that  the  balmy  air 

Breathes  o'er  ambrosial  flowers. 

Oh,  tell  me  not  that  crystal  streams 

Elow  o'er  their  beds  of  pearl, 
O'er  placid  lakes  the  moon's  bright  beams 

Their  witching  charms  unfurl. 
1  love  New  England's  hills  and  dales. 

Her  foamy,  broad  blue  sea ; 
The  rocky  shores  and  fertile  vales. 

All,  all  have  charms  for  me. 

.  Our  skies  are  bright  and  lovely  too. 
And  health  noats  on  the  breeze ;, 
And  gorgeous  is  the  sunset  hue. 
O'er  our  transparent  seas. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    63 

These  craggy  heights  more  beauteous  are 

Than  prairies  broad  can  be ; 
New  England  still  thy  home  is  dear, 

Land  of  the  brave  and  free. 

Oh,  lovely  are  these  snow-capped  hills 

And  vrild-wood  shades  to  me ; 
There's  music  in  the  rippling  rills,  g^ 

A  charm  is  o'er  the  sea. 
No  sable  slave  doth  till  thy  soil, 

Sweet  land  of  liberty  ; 
No  whip-lash  wakes  to  daily  toil. 

For  all  thy  sons  are  free.     • 

Land  where  the  Indian's  warwhoop  rang. 

Land  where  their  chieftains  bled ; 
And  where  their  vanquished  warriors  sang 

The  wild  dirge  o'er  their  dead. 
Our  fathers,  in  thy  forests  drear, 

Have  fought  and  died  for  thee ; 
New  England  still  thy  home  is  dear. 

Land  of  the  brave  and  free. 

No  more  shall.  Paugus'  darkening  form 

Thy  peaceful  homes  invade  ; 
From  Lovell's  band  a  dauntless  arm 

The  chieftain  low  hath  laid. 
He  sleeps  where  Saco's  waters  flow, 

Beneath  the  tall  pine-tree  ; 
And  warmer  hearts  for  thee  now*  glow, 
•  Land  of  the  brave  and  free. 


CHAPTER    VIII 


return  to  the  scenes  of   my   childhood.  —  lttla  s   home.  — 
matta's  bTOeavements.  —  lula's   letters;    her   frank   is 


ONE  YEAR  had  sped  by  since  Lula's  marriage, 
.and  my  lone  heart  yearned  to  greet  her  again,  and 
visit  once  mo^j  the  scenes  of  my  early  childhood,  where 
the  senseless  form  of  my  mother  was  silently  moulder- 
ing. 

And  so  one  bright  summer's  morning  I  left  the  din 
and  clatter  of  machinery,  the  noise  and  bustle  of  a 
factory  boarding-house,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  of  the 
tall  spires  which  reared  themselves  so  loftily  above  the 
busy  Spindle  City. 

Lula  met  me  with  joyful  acclamations  and  sisterly 
greetings  at  the  door  of  her  pretty  home,  and  proudly 
placed  within  my  arms  an  infant  cherub  boy,  —  her  boy, 
the  first-born  of  my  baby  sister. 

It  seemed  but  yesterday  since  we  r(tmped  together, 
and,  in  our  childish  glee,  chasing  the  shadows  and  the 
sunbeams  beneath  the  swaying  branches  of*  the  old  oak- 
tree. 

It  seemed  but  yesterday  since  we  had  wept  together 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.    .    65 

over  the  rigid  features  of  a  dying  mother,  and  nestled 
closer  together,  a  little  motherless  band,  by  the  silent 
hearthstone  of  our  desolate  home. 

And  now  she,  the  youngest  of  the  fold,  herself  a 
proud,  happy  mother  and  wife,  and  mistress  of  a  pretty 
and  jJeasant  abode. 

"  I  have  named  him  Frank,  Rosa.  Is  it  not  pretty  ? 
That  is  the  name  of  my  dear,  dear  husband,  you  know, 
and  to  me  the  sweetest  narde  in  all  the  world." 

I  pressed  him  tenderly  to  my  trembling  lips,  and 
bathed  his  fair  your^g  brow  with  the  tears  which  welled 
up  from  my  bursting  heart.  For  dear  to  me  as  Lula 
herself,  was  her  infant  cherub  boy. 

I  was  pleased  with  her  home,  —  with  the  neatness, 
regularity,  and  promptness  with  which  every  thing  was 
accomplished  in  their  due  season. 

We  chatted  of  olden  times,  sang  together  the  songs 
we  used  to  love,  rambled  hand  in  hand  through  the 
green  meadows,  plucked  the  delicious  berries  which 
grew  in  tempting  luxuriance  at  our  feet,  and  had  long 
drives  together,  over  the  hills  and  far  away,  in  the  little 
light  vehicle  which  her  Frank  had  manufactured  with 
his  own  hands." 

And  then  we  visited  Matta  together.  Another  bird- 
ling  warbled  its  soft  preludes  in  her  dear  home.  It  was 
a  girl,  too,  like  the  first-born  she  had  laid  away  beneath 

6* 


66,  EFFIEANBi;     OR, 

the  silent  turf,  where  the  form  of  our  sainted  mother 
was  reposing. 

"  This  Httle  pledge  of  our  earth-love  I  shall  name  for 
you,  dear  Rosa,"  she  said,  as  she  laid  it  tenderly  within 
my  arms.  "  We  love  it  very,  very  much ;  and  more, 
because  we  fear  that  the  death-angel  will  wrest  i^^from 
us  as  he  did  our  first-born  darling  babe." 

Then  little  Ernest,  who  bore  the  name  of  our  dead 
brother,  came  shyly  to  my  side,  and  laid  his  little  dim- 
pled hand  coaxingly  within  my  own. 

In  the  first  glad  joy  of  sisterly  greeting,  he  had  been 
overlooked-;  but  now  he  raised  his  little  winsome  face  to 
mine,  arOund  which  the  long  flaxen  curls  were  streaming 
in  sunny  beauty,  while  the  little  plump  lips  half  pouting, 
half  laughing,  were  temptingly  held  up  for  "  aunty's 
kiss." 

I  pressed  his  dimpled  cheeks  and  flaxen  curls  wildly 
to  my  throbbing  bosom,  accompanied  with  such  a  shower 
of  stifling  kisses,  that  he  was  glad  to  beat  a  retreat,  and 
screen  himself  within  the  folds  of  his  mother's  dressing- 
gown. 

A  few  weeks  were  spent  with  Matta  and  her  babes, 
and  then  we  hied  us  away  to  Minnie's  abode  in  the 

city  of  P . 

Minnie  had  no  babes  to  claim  our  share  of  atten- 
tion ;  but  she  was  a  light,  joyous,  happy  creature, 
making    sunshine    and    gladness  wherever    she   went. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.        67 

with  her  bright  smihng  face  and  free  gushing  laugh- 
ter. 

And  so  in  Minnie's  home  the  days  sped  on  with  electric 
velocity,  till  the  cold,  bleak  winds  of  autumn  swept 
threateningly  from  the  distant  mountains,  warning  me 
of  the  near  approach  of  winter,  and  the  necessity  of 
resuming  my  labors  in  my  factory  home. 

And,  back  again,  the  weeks  and  months  sped  on  in  the 
same  monotonous  way  as  formerly.  The  same  kindly 
greetings  and  familiar  faces  met  me  as  erst,  passing 
to  and  fro. 

In  the  same  little  screen,  stood  my  plants  and  flowers, 
and  just  above  them  hung  the  little  mirror,  where  I  had 
so  often  smoothed  my  hah*  and  laved  my  heated  brow 
with  the  cooUng  draught. 

The  same  shining  shuttles  were  flying  as  merrily  as 
ever  through  the  forest  of  snowy  threads,  always  es- 
caping with  wonderful  tenacity  the  threatening  thump, 
thump,  thump  pf  the  heavy  lathe. 

The  whirl  and  whiz  of  belts  and  clogs,  all  seemed  like 
the  greetings  of  cherished  friends.  I  wrote  and  sang 
and  chatted,  fearless  of  listening  critics,  and  my  daily 
invocations  to  Heaven's  throne  were  heard  only  by  the 
great  Father,  as  they  arose  from  my  lips,  while  bending 
busily  over  my  daily  task. 

It  was  midwinter,  and  the  wail  of  anguish  again 
reached  me  from  Mattie's  far-off  home.     Little  Ernest 


68  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

had  fallen  a  victim  to  a  fatal  disease,  and  was  already 
clothed  in  a  seraph's  shining  garb,  roaming  with  his 
sainted  sister  over  the  fields  ambrosial  in  the  happj 
spirit-world. 

Mattie's  home  was  again  darkened,  and  her  heart 
crushed  by  the  bereaving  rod.  Where  could  she  fly 
for  consolation  ? 

Earth  had  no  balm  for  those  bleeding  wounds.  Many 
a  day  I  wept  over  the  fate  of  poor  little  Ernest,  and 
mourned  for  the  bereaved  mother,  till  the  spirit-whisper- 
jngs  answered,  "  It  is  well  with  the  child." 

The  dark,  fearful  shadow  of  the  death-angel  was 
already  nearing  the  threshold  of  Lula's  happy  home. 
That  fell  destroyer,  consumption,  was  clutching  his 
fatal  fangs  into  the  heart-depths  of  her  young  and  idol 
husband.  Yet  he  came  so  stealthily,  so  treacherously, 
that  they  knew  not  an  enemy  was  stalking  around  their 
dwelling,  till  they  heard  the  ominous  clanking  of  his 
iron  heel,  and  the  dark  shadow  of  his  gaunt  form  fell 
threateningly  upon  their  hearts  and  home. 

Then  a  letter  reached  me  from  Lula's  home,  saying 
entreatingly,  "  Do  come  to  me,  Rosa ;  my  heart  is  break- 
ing. I  cannot  bear  this  great  affliction  alone.  Come  to 
me,  for  the  hand  of  God  is  laid  heavily  upon  me. 

"Why,  oh  why  must  it  ever  be  thus,  that  our 
heart's  cherished  ones,  our  idols,  must  ever  be  wrested 
from  us,  when  we  cling  to  them  with  such  idolatrous 
devotion  ? 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    69 

"  I  cannot  part  with  dear,  dear  Frank ;  he  is  my 
world,  my  light,  my  life,  my  heaven  below.  And  little 
Frank  is  just  beginning  to  climb  upon  his  knees,  and 
lisp  his  name  so  prettily  too.  Oh,  our  home  has  been  a 
little  paradise.  Must  it  be  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of 
death  and  the  tomb  ?  " 

I  made  immediate  preparations  to  go  to  Lula,  hoping 
and  praying  that  the  angel  of  death  might  pass  them 
by ;  that  he  would  stay  his  hand,  ere  the  light  of  their 
happy  home  had  forever  departed  from  her.  They 
had  been  so  happy  together.  I  could  not  think  he  was 
dying. 


CHAPTER    X. 

DEATH    OF    LULA's    CHBBTTB   Bt)Y.  —  HEK   HUSBANd'S    TRIUMPHANT 
DEATH.  —  HER   HOME    MADE    DESOLATE. 

IN  A  FEW  DAYS!  stood  upon  the  threshold 
of  my  sister's  dwelling.  No  joyful  acclamations 
reached  my  ear,  as  I  cautiously  raised  the  latch  to  gain 
admittance  to  the  room  where  we  last  parted  one  httle 
year  ago,  —  she  a  happy  wife  and  mother,  with  the  roses 
and  sunshine  of  youth  and  health  upon  her  fair  white 
brow,  —  little  dreaming  that  the  sunlight  would  so  soon 
be  darkened  by  the  heavy  clouds  of  sorrow,  or  that  the 
roses  would  fade  and  wither  beneath  the  cypress-wreath 
and  badges  of  bereavement  and  death. 

I  entered.  No  one  saw  my  approach,  for  a  mightier 
than  I  had  preceded  me  ;  and  they  were  bowing  in 
hushed  awe  and  speechless  silence  before  the  dark 
sceptre  he  wielded  commandingly  before  them. 

He  was  no  stranger  to  me.  Many  times  I  had  seen 
him  enter  the  little  cot  which  erst  nestled  so  lovingly 
beneath  the  old  oak-tree.  Many  times  that  dark  sceptre 
had  severed  a  link  from  out  our  happy  band,  and  driven 
the  dancing  sunlight  from  our  hearts  and  home.  And 
he  was  the  same,  the  very  same  in  that  Httle  darkened 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN. A     COTTON    MILL.        71 

room,  where  Lula  was  kneeling  in  hopeless  grief  beside 
the  couch  of  her  onlj,  her  idol  boy. 
.  How  sweet  he  looked,  as  he  lay  there  in  the  still 
repose  of  death ;  his  soft  white  lids  drooping  over  the 
marble  cheek ;  his  waxen  fingers  clasped  lovingly  over 
a  pulseless  breast ;  his  innocent  prattlings  all  hushed 
by  the  cold,  icy  fingers  of  death  ;  and  his  delicate  limbs 
shrouded  in  the  habiliments  of  the  tomb. 

How  the  pentr-up  fountains  of  that  mother's  heart 
gushed  forth  in  unrepressed  and  uncontrollable  grief,  as 
she  knelt  there  with  her  cold  white  hand  pressing  con- 
vulsively its  pulseless  brow. 

Grief  and  despair  were  throwing  around  her  their  dark, 
impenetrable  shroud.  She  saw  her  child  torn  away 
from  her  yearning  heart  and  shielding  bosom,  and  the 
dark  and  silent  tomb  yawning  to  receive  it. 

Neighbors  and  friends  were  gathered  around  her  with 
tears  of  sympathy  and  words  of  condolence  ;  but  she  re- 
fused to  be  comforted. 

Oh  that  our  angel-mother  could  fold  her  wings  around 
her  stricken  child,  and,  in  a  still  small  voice,  breathe 
words  of  sweet  consolation  into  her  troubled  ear  as  ofb 
she  had  to  mine. 

I  felt  that  that  angel-mother  was  already  hovering 
around  us ;  and  I  prayed  that  her  soft,  soothing  in- 
spirations might  calm  the  deep  anguish,  the*  crushing 
agony,  of  Lula's  bleeding  heart. 

Oh  that  hope  might  gleam  to  her  through  the  dim, 


72  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

dark  distance.  That  with  an  eye  of  faith  she  might 
penetrate  the  dark  clouds  of  despair ;  and,  far  bejond, 
see  the  etherial  form  of  our  sainted  mother  clothed  in  a 
garb  of  dazzling  beauty,  bearing,  within  her  snowy  pin- 
ions, her  infant  babe  safely  within  the  golden  gates  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  to  repose  in  her  sainted  bosom  free 
from  the  sins,  the  sorrows,  and  sufferings  of  this  lower 
earth. 

"  Lula,"  I  whispered,  as  I  twined  my  arm  caressingly 
around  her  neck,  "  be  firm  in  the  strength  of  Abraham's 
God  ;  for  it  is  well  with  the  child." 

Lula  laid  her  head  upon  my  throbbing  bosom,  £ind  sob- 
bed aloud.  "  0  Rosa !  my  heart  is  breaking  for  my 
darling  babe." 

How  many  a  mother  has  knelt  and  wept  as  despairingly 
as  Lula  did,  over  the  pale  features  of  a  darling,  an  only 
babe,  made  lifeless  by  that  fearful  scourge,  the  scarlet 
fever. 

How  many  families  have  been  swept  away  by  its  de- 
vastating power.  How  many  villages  have  been  desolated 
by  its  sweeping  breath  and  fiery  fangs. 

Well  may  a  mother  tremble,  and  press  more  closely  to 
her  bosom  her  darling  babes,  when  she  hears  the  sound 
of  his  chariot  wheels  in  the-  far-off  distance. 

He  is  a  mighty  conqueror ;  his  shafts  are  swift  and 

■fatal  to  1#ie  sweet  heart-blossoms  a  mother's   love    has 

nourished  with  the  tenderest  care  and  fondest  solicitude. 

They  bore  her  household  pet  to  the  little  vault  which  was 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON     MILL.         73 

opened  to  receive  him.  And  then  Lula  returned,  with  a 
breaking  heart,  to  perform  her  mission  of  love  beside  the 
couch  of  her  invaUd  husband. 

How  softly  and  shadow-hke  she  moved  around  the 
darkened  apartment,  lest  her  slightest  foot-fall  might 
arouse  him  from  a  momentary  forgetfulness  of  his  tor- 
turing disease. 

How  tenderly  her  soft  hand  laved  his  burning  brow, 
or  held  the  cooUng  beverage  to  his  parched  and  fevered 
lips. 

How  carefully  she  adjusted  the  downy  pillows  so  that 
he  might  recline  in  a  position  of  greater  ease  and  repose. 

And  through  the  dark  and  stilly  night  hours  she  hov- 
ered around  the  couch  of  the  restless  sufferer,  perform- 
ing, ever  and  anon,  some  act  of  love ;  never  herself 
indulging  in  needful  repose  while  her  services  were  re- 
quired at  his  side,  or  her  hand  could  alleviate  one  pain, 
or  perform  one  more  act  of  tenderness  to  the  suffering 
one. 

But  her  tenderest  care  could  not  restore  him,  her  love 
could  not  detain  him,  her  tears  and  prayers  could  not 
soften  the  mandates  of  the  death-king,  who  strode  threat- 
eningly around  their  dwelling,  and  rapped  impatiently  at 
the  door  of  their  little  bridal  chamber. 

"  0  my  husband,  you  must  not,  you  will  not,  leave 
me  here  alone  !  You  cannot  die  while  my  heart  beats  so 
fondly  for  you.    My  love  must  detain  you.     The  death- 


74  EFFIEANDI. 

king  must  not  enter  our  little  home  again,  and  wrest  you 
from  my  bleeding  bosom." 

"  Jesus  calls  me,  dear  Lula.  I  fear  not  the  death- 
king  ;  for  an  angel-band  will  bear  me  safely  to  the  man- 
sion he  has  prepared  for  me  in  the  spirit- world.  I  shall 
only  change  the  mortal  for  the  immortal ;  only  exchange 
weakness  for  strength  ;  sorrow  and  pain  for  the  glories 
of  heaven.  I  shall  not  be  far  from  you,  Lula.  I  will 
watch  over  you,  comfort  and  counsel  you,  till  we  mingle 
our  notes  of  praise,  with  myriad  angel  voices,  to  God  and 
the  Lamb  in  the  happy  spirit- world.  Ber  comforted, 
Lula,  you  will  meet  me  there  soon,  never,  no  never  to 
part  again." 

And  thus  he  passed  away  from  earth,  and  Lula,  wid- 
owed and  childless,  bowed  meekly  to  the  bereaving  rod. 
But  the  shaft  went  home  to  the  heart's  core,  and  no 
earth-balm  could  heal  the  wound  it  made.  How  desolate 
was  her  heart  when  she  returned  from  the  graves  of  her 
idols  to  her  cheerless  home.  Alas !  for  Lula  it  was 
home  no  longer. 

Her  tears  had  not  been  stayed  ;  her  heart-moanings 
were  not  hushed,  ere  the  relatives,  who  had  long  cov- 
eted the  little  wealth  which  her  husband  had  accumulated 
by  persevering  industry,  took  measures  to  secure  it  to 
themselves;  and  even  to  wrest  from  her  the  widow's 
mite,  lawfully  hers,  by  false  representations  and  stealthy 
conveyances  of  valuable  articles  from  the  manufacturing 
establishment  of  her  departed  husband.. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         75 

And  so  Lula  once  more  was  penniless,  homeless,  and 
alone,  with  crushed  spirits,  a  bleeding  heart,  and  en- 
feebled constitution.  To  Matta's  home  then  she  fled,  till 
health  and  strength  should  once  more  enable  her  to 
wrestle  with  the  heavy  billows  of  adversity  which  were 
surging  so  heavily  and  surely  against  the  little  bark, 
that  lay  wrecked  and  disabled  upon  the  bleak,  barren 
rocks  of  her  stormy  life-sea. 

Minnie  had  removed  far  away.  Many  months  her 
deUcate  constitution  had  been  yielding  slowly,  but  surely, 
to  that  fell-destroyer  of  youth  and  beauty,  consumption. 

One  day  a  letter  came  to  us.  It  was  in  a  stranger's 
hand,  but  the  fearful  forebodings  of  our  hearts  told  us 
too  truly  what  it  contained. 

Minnie,  too,  was  dead.  Her  free,  gushing  joyousness 
was  hushed,  and  the  sunshine  of  her  happy  smiles  had 
gone  out  from  her  pleasant  home. 

We  mourned  for  our  gentle  Minnie,  as  we  had  mourn- 
ed for  those  who  had  gone  before ;  and  wept  that  she, 
too,  must  fill  a  stranger's  grave,  far,  far  away  from  the 
scenes  and  associations  of  our  happy  childhood. 

Three  of  us  then  was  all  that  remained  of  that  once 
numerous  family  ;  and  which,  we  knew  not,  would  be 
the  next  victim  to  that  fell  and  relentless  destroyer. 

We  felt  that  his  cravings  would  not  be  appeased,  till 
he  had  sucked  the  last  life-drop  from  the  hearts  he  had 
yet  spared  in  the  shattered  remnant  of  that  hapless 
family. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

I    RETURN    TO    THE    SPINDLE    CITY. — CHANGES    IN    NUMBER    TEN. — 
A   PLEASANT    COMPANION.  —  LITTLE   WEEPING   WILLOW. 

ONCE  MORE  I  returned  to  the  Spindle  City ; 
and  as  my  foot  again  pressed  the  threshold  of  that 
old  familiar  home,  No.  10,  a  prayer  went  up  with  heart- 
felt thankfulness  to  the  orphan's  God,  that  there  was  yet 
this  asylum  left  to  shelter  the  lone  wanderer  and  heart- 
stricken  orphan. 

Many  times  it  had  changed  occupants  since  I  had 
sought  its  quiet,  protecting  roof.  Kindly  hearts  and  far 
miliar  faces  had  often  departed,  Avith  a  tearful  farewell, 
from  those  pleasant  associations,  again  to  gladden  the 
homes  of  their  childhood,  or  to  diffuse  the  light  of  love 
and  devotion  in  the  homes  and  hearts  of  those  they  had 
chosen,  for  weal  or  woe,  through  the  journey  of  shadows 
and  sunbeams  in  life's  pilgrimage. 

Such  changes  had  taken  place  in  my  recent  absence, 
and  in  my  pleasant  sleeping  apartment,  none  but  strange 
faces  awaited  to  greet  my  return. 

So  Miss  Gourdon,  my  old  friend  and  mistress  of  the 
house  informed  me,  after  her  kindly  greetings  and 
motherly  congratulations  on  my  safe  return. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         77 

"  They  have  already  procured  places,  and  are  already 
quitq  facto ryfied,  with  the  exception  of  the  little  pale, 
drooping  EflBe  Lee.  The  girls  call  her  the  '  Weeping 
Willow.'  She  has  been  here  but  a  few  days,  and 
hardly  made  an  effort  to  procure  employment.  She 
seems  very  sensitive  and  friendless  ;  and  I  am  so  glad 
that  you  have  come,  for  I  know  that  your  sympathies 
will  be  enlisted  in  her  favor,  as  also  your  influence  in 
behalf  of  her  welfare." 

I  quickly  followed  the  coachman  with  my  luggage,  and 
bade  him  leave  it  in  the  hall,  outside  the  door  of  my 
sleeping  apartment.  My  heart  was  gushing  with  sym- 
pathy for  the  lone  one.  But  when  I  entered  that  old, 
familiar  apartment,  and  my  eyes  rested  upon  the  droop- 
ing form  of  the  unknown,  my  sympathies  found  vent  in  a 
gush  of  unsuppressed  tears. 

She  sat  at  my  own  little  writing-table  ;  her  head  bowed 
low,  her  face  leaning  upon  her  clasped  hands,  concealed 
by  a  heavy  fall  of  bright  golden  tresses,  resembling  a 
cloud  of  sunlight  resting  upon  a  lily  bed,  surrounded  by 
the  sable  drapery  of  the  storm-cloud. 

She  did  not  raise  her  head,  and  I  knew  by  the  half- 
suppressed  sob  and  the  heavy  throbbing  of  the  bosom, 
beneath  the  folds  of  the  sable  dress,  that  she  was  weep- 
ing. Aye,  weeping  tears  of  bitter  and  hopeless  bereave- 
ment. 

Instinctively  I  was  drawn  to  her  side,  and  laying  my 


78  BFFIEANDl;OR, 

hand  caressingly  upon  the  soft  curls  which  shaded  her 
throbbing  temples,  I  whispered  tenderly,  "  A  little  home- 
sick, my  dear,  I  think ;  but  it  will  soon  pass  away,  and 
you  will  even  learn  to  love  the  scenes  and  associations 
which  at  first  seem  so  uncongenial  and  repulsive  to  a 
delicate  and  sensitive  nature. 

"  It  is  what  I  call  the  orphan's  home  ;  a  resort  for  the 
poor  and  friendless.  I  hail  it  with  gratitude  to  the  great 
Father,  who  is  also  the  orphan's  God,  that  He  has 
endowed  men  with  the  means,  abiUty,  and  disposition, 
to  erect  such  institutions  of  industry,  where  any  and  all 
may  acquire  a  competence,  independent  and  free  from 
the  degradation  which  charitable  obligation  demands. 

"  Miss  Gourdon  has  told  me  that  you  are  a  stranger 
here,  without  even  an  acquaintance  to  give  you  the 
warm  hand  of  friendship,  or  a  kindly  word  of  encourage- 
ment, in  this  eventfal  era  of  your  young  life,  which 
has  elicited  my  warm  sympathies  in  your  behalf,  as  it 
shall  my  influence,  in  procuring  for  you  the  situation 
which  you  desire." 

She  raised  her  head,  and  pressed  convulsively  my  cool 
palm  to  her  burning  brow.  "  Oh  !  "  she  articulated,  "  I 
am  alone,  alone  in  the  wide  world.  Not  one  remains  to 
whom  my  heart  can  claim  kindred.  All,  all  are  gone, 
and  this  heart,  this  life,  is  —  oh  —  so  desolate  ! 

"  Why,  oh  why  was  I  left  to  tread  this  dark,  thorny 
life-path  alone  —  alone  ?  " 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.         79 

"  Nay,  not  alone,"  I  said,  "  for  they  are  all  with  thee 
still,  that  household  band  ;  and  God,  even  the  great  Jeho- 
vah,  holds   thee   by   the  right  hand  of  His  power  and' 
mercy." 

The  welcome  sound  of  the  tea-bell  rang  merrily 
through  the  hall,  and  hastily  wiping  the  tear-drops  from 
the  swollen  cheeks  of  my  little  protege,  I  drew  her  arm 
affectionately  within  my  own,  and  hastened  to  my  old, 
familiar  seat  in  the  dining-hall  below. 

Miss  Gourdon  smiled  a  kindly  greeting  as  we  entered, 
and  introduced  me  as  the  Rosa  Lynd  she  had  been  ex- 
pecting to  occupy  the  bed  and  room  which  had  formerly 
been  appropriated  to  my  use. 

"  I  did  not  wait  for  your  permission,  Rosa,"  she  said, 
"  in  the  selection  of  your  lodging  companion,  for  I  felt 
that  you  would  be  just  the  ones  of  all  the  world,  —  the 
very  best  friends  imaginable. 

"  And  I  hardly  know  which  to  congratulate  the  most ; 
you  Rosa,  for  having  found  one  on  whom  you  can  lavish 
the  love  and  sympathy  of  your  warm  heart,  or  the 
shrinking,  sensitive,  tearful  Effie,  who  can  lean  upon 
your  kindly  arm,  and  grow  strong,  and  hopeful,  and 
happy,  'neath  your  encouraging  smiles  and  sisterly  affec- 
tion." 

"  Congratulate  me.  Mother  Gourdon,  for  having  found 
one  who  will  suffer  me  to  act  in  the  double  capacity  of 
friend  and  sister. 


80  EFPIEANDi;OR, 

"  Yes,  we  will  be  sisters,  Effie  dear,  as  well  as  friends 
and  room-mates.  For  how  truly  can  our  hearts  sympa- 
thize with  each  other  in  the  sorrows  and  bereavements 
which  have  desolated  our  homes,  and  twined  our  brows 
with  the  cypress  wreath  of  lonely  orphanage." 

Effie's  large  blue  eyes  glistened  with  hopeful  tears,  as 
they  beamed  with  a  look  of  gratitude  upon  me. 

Her  fair,  white,  transparent  brow  grew  placid  and 
serene,  a  delicate  -tinge  suffused  her  cheek,  while  a  faint 
smile  played  alternately  around  the  dimples  of  her  pretty 
mouth. 

After  answering  i.he  many  questions  of  Mother  Gour- 
don,  in  relation  to  the  sorrowful  events  which  had 
transpired  in  my  absence,  of  Lula's  bereavements  and 
her  desolate  home,  we  repaired  again  to  the  cosy  little 
room  appropriated  to  our  use. 

Very  little  etiquette  or  formality  is  served  up  amongst 
factory  girls,  whether  they  compose  the  same  household 
circle,  or  mingle  with  the  mass  in  the  factory  yard. 
Wherever  they  meet,  reserve  and  shyness  give  place  to 
pleasant  greetings  and  sisterly  familiarity.  And  taking 
advantage  of  this  privilege,  I  said,  "  It  will  be  one  whole 
hour  before  bell  time  yet,  Effie  ;  and,  with  your  permis- 
sion, we  will  spend  it  in  making  ourselves  a  little  better 
acquainted  with  each  other,  by  relating  some  of  the 
incidents  of  our  sad,  eventful  Hves. 

"  And  so  you  must  gratify  my  curiosity  first,"  I  con- 


SEVEN    YEAKS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.         81 

tinued  in  a  cheerful  tone,  twining  mj  arm  affectionately 
around  her  snowy  neck,  as  I  seated  myself  by  her  side, 
"  by  telling  me  how  such  a  little,  sensitive,  shrinking 
creature  as  you  seem  to  be,  ever  found  the  way  from  the 
Pine-tree  State  to  our  busy  Spindle  City." 

Efl&e  smiled  mournfully,  while  the  tears  started  afresh 
to  her  clear  blue  eyes.  In  a  moment  she  mastered  her ' 
emotions,  and  said,  "  Oh,  it  is  a  sad,  sad  story  ;  but  I 
feel  that  it  will  be  a  relief  to  unburden  my  heart  to  one 
who  can,  from  experience,  sympathize  with  my  loneliness 
and  orphanage." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

EFFIE    LKe'S    GLOWING    DESCRIPTION   OF    HEE     CHILDHOOD'S    HOME. 
ESQUIRE    STONEHEART'S    PAUPERS. 

"  H/T  ^     FATHER     was    (Jnce    an    enterprising 

-^J^  mechanic,  and  being  a  superior  workman,  soon 
accumulated  a  handsome  little  fortune  which  seemed  the 
sure  precursor  to  wealth  and  an  elevated  position  in  the 
ranks  of  the  world.  It  is  an  old  saying,  and  I  believe 
a  true  one,  that  misfortunes  never  come  single-handed. 
Nevertheless,  it  proved  true  in  relation  to  mj  father  and 
his  little  competence. 

"  A  fire  occurred  which  proved  very  disastrous  in 
the  village  where  he  was  located,  and  with  one  fell  swoop 
it  took  all  that  my  father  possessed,  with  the  exception 
of  the  lives  of  his  darling  ones. 

"  When  my  father  became  fully  sensible  of  the  ruin 
and  desolation  which  had  befallen  him,  and  saw  the  morn- 
ing sunlight  smiling  mockingly  upon  the  thick  smoke  and 
charred  timbers  of  the  elegant  home  his  own  industry 
had  reared,  it  completely  unmanned  him. 

"  Many  weeks  he  lay  bereft  of  strength  and  reason, 
and  when  at  last  they  returned  to  him,  they  brought  not 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN    A     COTTON    MILL.         83 

back  his  former  hopeful  aspirations  and  energetic  will, 
which  had  characterized  him  in  his  previous  efforts.  He 
was  physically  and  mentally  shattered  by  the  sad  catas- 
trophe which  had  beggared  him. 

"  Yes,  my  father  was  penniless,  and  their  only  means 
of  support  through  his  long  and  tedious  illness  was  pro- 
vided by  public  charity. 

"  One  evening,  just  as  my  father  had  begun  to  venture 
out  a  little,  assisted  by  my  mother,  they  were  surprised 
by  the  entrance  and  introduction  of  a  tall,  coarse-fea- 
tured, hard-fisted  man,  whom  my  father  at  once  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  officials  of  his  native  town, 

"  My  father  recoiled  with  horror  at  the  sight  of  him, 
for  a  presentiment  that  he  had  not  yet  drank  off  the 
dregs  of  the  bitter  cup,  rushed  over  him  with  irresisti- 
ble and  overpowering  force.  With  a  groan,  which  wells 
up  only  from  a  broken  and  bleeding  heart,  he  sank  back 
fainting  upon  the  throbbing  bosom  of  my  gentle  mother. 

" '  Is  this  the  reception  I  meet  with,  hey,  boy  ? ' 
said  the  official  with  an  insulting  leer,  '  when  I  come 
to  help  you  out  of  your  troubles  ?     Come,  I  am  going  to 

take  you  back  to  B ;  I  knew  you  could  not  get  along 

without  us.  The  fact  is  we  have  had  a  town  meeting, 
and  Esquire  Stoneheart  has  consented  to  take  you. 

" '  He  said  that  he  would  take  you  at  the  lowest  possi- 
ble price,  and  he  has  made  a  bargain  this  time,  I  swow, 
and  is  in  a  deuced  huri-y  to  have  the  pay-roll  in  black  and 
white  upon  his  logbook  and  ledger.' 


84  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

"  And  he  fastened  his  small,  snaky  eyes,  with  an  in- 
sulting, licentious  glare  upon  my  sensitive  mother,  who 
recoiled  with  horror  from  his  rude  gaze. 

"  '  Come,  Lee,'  he  continued,  '  bestir  yourself,  you'll 
find  that  you  have  got  precious  little  time  to  waste  in 
conniptions ;  for  I  shall  start  with  you  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, whether  you  will  or  no,  and  place  you  under  good 
protection  for  a  while  or  so,  I  reckon.' 

"  The  full  force  of  his  assertions  came  like  the  scathing 
lightning  to  those  heart  -  stricken  and  desolate  ones. 
And  words  have  no  power  to  express  the  anguish  which 
those  assertions  conveyed  to  their  hearts. 

"  They  were  paupers,  and  had  been  knocked  down 
under  the  hammer  of  the  auctioneer,  like  cast-off  clothing 
or  more  worthless  refuse. 

"  '  Is  there  no  way  of  escape,  dear  George  ?  —  no  al- 
ternative ? '  asked  my  mother,  as  the  door  closed  upon 
the  tall,  gaunt  form  of  him  who  had  come  to  deal  this 
last  and  heavy  blow. 

"  '  Alas !  none,  I  fear,  my  precious  wife.  You  know 
that  I  for  many  years  have  been  an  orphan,  left  to  hew 
my  way  alone  through  the  rough  sandstones  of  life  ; 
and  your  father  is  dead  also,  and  the  portion  which  he 
left  you  is  devoured  by  the  greedy  flames. 

"  '  Whither  shall  we  go  ?  to  what  turn  for  comfort  or 
assistance,  but  to  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well  ?  Let 
us  trust  Him,  my  gentle  wife,  and  may-be  we  shall  find 
him  all-sufficient» 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    xMILL.         85 

" '  We  must  go  with  this  man  ;  I  see  no  alternative.* 
It  will,  I  fear,  be  long  before  I  recover  my  health  suffi- 
ciently to  do  aught  for  the  comfort  or  well-being  of  my 
family ;  and  you,  dearest,  will  soon  need  the  most  deli- 
cate attentions,  which  a  sick  and  beggared  husband 
cannot  tender  you,' 

"  '  Talk  not  of  me,  dear  George  ;  for  whither  thou  goest, 
I  will  go,'  said  my  mother.  '  I  will  never  repine,  though 
fate  deals  harshly  with  us,  if  so  be  that  we  are  not  sepa- 
rated by  misfortune,  or  the  stern,  relentless  hand  of  death. 

"  '  Yes  ;  I  will  go,  hoping  that  you  will  soon  recover 
your  health ;  and  then,  with  our  united  efforts,  we  shall 
soon  be  able  to  raise  ourselves  from  this  mortifying  deg- 
radation. 

"  '  Let  us,  with  microscopic  faith,  penetrate  these  dark 
clouds  which  hang  so  ominously  around  us,  and  look 
trustingly  and  hopefully  into  the  future. 

" '  We  will  not  always  be  thus.  The  hill  is  before 
us ;  we  must  either  remain  inactive  at  the  base,  or  go 
up.  The  ascension  will  be  easier,  when  we  make  it 
hand  in  hand  together,  dearest. 

"  '  You  have  yet  to  learn  the  energy,  courage,  and 
perseverance  of  your  wee-pet  wife.  I  already  feel  my- 
self a  David  —  nay,  more  ;  were  fifty  giants  in  the  way 
to  irfipede  my  progress,  I  could  slay  them  all,  and  lay 
them  lifeless  at  my  feet. 

"  '  Courage,  George  ;  though  the  waters  are  dark  and 

8 


86  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

^turbid  through  which  we  must  pass,  I  know  there  are 
green  fields  beyond,  and  flowers  and  sunshine,  and,  over 
all,  a  calm,  cloudless  sky. 

"  '  I  fear  not  now  to  beat  back  and  struggle  with  the 
dark  waves  of  this  turbid  stream ;  we  shall  soon  be  be- 
yond it,  and  so  happy.' 

"  The  morning  dawned,  and  they  were  hurried  from 
their  couch,  where  they  had  spent  a  sleepless  night  of 
intense  anxiety  and  bitter  anguish,  and  bidden  to  make 
their  preparations  as  brief  as  possible,  as  the  magistrate 
was  in  haste  to  proceed  on  his  journey. 

"  Neither  my  father  or  mother  tasted  aught  of  the  food 
which  had  been  prepared ;  and  they  even  turned  from 
it  with  loathing  and  disgust. 

"  '  Never  mind,'  said  the  dignitary.  '  A  day  or  two 
of  hard  riding,  through  this  sharp  November  air,  will 
whet  their  dainty  teeth,  I'll  warrant  me. 

"  '  Never  mind  the  breakfast.  They  will  come  around 
all  right,  when  they  get  accustomed  to  Esquire  Stone- 
heart's  luxuries.  Pooh!  what  right  have  paupers  to 
luxuries  ? 

" '  The  fact  is,  we  have  too  many  of  them  to  grant 
them  many  indulgences.  Ha !  ha !  It  would  take  all 
the  funds  of  Uncle  Sam's  treasury  to  buy  luxuries  for 
such  a  host  of  lazy  gormandizers.  This  way  to  my  con- 
veyance, gentlefolk,'  he  said  mockingly,  as  he  led  the 
way  to  the  back  door. 

" '  It  may  be  it  is  not  quite  so  nice  as  the  one  you 


SEVEN     YEARS    IN     A     COTTON    MILL.         87 

used  to  ride  in,  and  which,  unfortunatelj,  was  amongst 
the  missing  on  the  night  of  that  dreadful  fire  ;  but  it  is 

such  as  the  good  fathers  of  B furnish,"  when  they 

send  abroad  to  recall  their  prodigal  children  to  the  home 
which  their  bounty  provides. 

"  '  The  fact  is,  Miss,'  he  continued,  as  he  placed  my 
mother  upon  the  rough,  hard  seat,  beside  her  ex- 
hausted and  fainting  husband ;  '  the  fact  is,  Miss,  we 
live  too  fast  in  these  degenerate  times.  We  build 
houses  and  barns,  and  add  to  them  greater  magnifi- 
cence than  that  of  Solomon's  temple.  And  then  we 
say  we  will  make  unto  ourselves  a  golden  idol,  that  we 
may  worship  it,  forgetting  that  there  is  a  jealous  God, 
who,  in  his  anger,  can  send  the  scathing  fire,  and  who 
makes  your  idols  and  wealth  disappear  like  chaff  before 
the  whirlwind. 

"  '  There,  now,  we  are  all  right,  eh  ?  '  he  continued, 
as  he  tucked  the  scanty  comers  of  the  rough  blanket 
around  the  shivering  form  of  the  invalid. 

'"A  very  good  day  to  you.  Madam,'  he  said,  raising 
his  whip,  and  giving  a  sly  nod  and  wink  to  the  hostess, 
which  she  well  knew  how  to  understand.  '  Take  very 
good  care  of  the  children,  and  don't  let  them  run  away 
before  I  make  another  trip  east'ard,  because  I  shall  be 
responsible  for  all  the  missing  ones,  you  know. 

" '  The  fact  is.  Miss  Lee,  I  didn't  come  prepared  to 
take  a  whole  township  ;  and  so  I  must  wait  for  another 
cargo  an(|  further  orders.' 


88  EFFIEANDI. 

"  '  Oh,  here  !  John !  Nellj !  Stop,  sir !  You  are  not 
going  to  leave  my  children  here  alone,  unprotected  and 
beggared,  while  you  tear  us  helplessly  and  hopelessly 
away  from  them  ?  '  said  my  mother,  pleadingly. 

"  '  John  !  Nelly  ! '  she  cried  again,  with  heart-rend- 
ing anguish,  as,  with  a  wild,  hysterical  bound,  she  made 
a  desperate  effort  to  leap  from  the  carriage. 

"  But  the  functionary  anticipated  her  frenzied  designs, 
and  sprang  upon  the  back  of  the  sleigh  behind  her,  at 
the  same  time  throwing  his  long,  sinewy  limbs  on 
either  side  of  her  delicate  neck,  till  his  large  shapeless 
feet,  encased  in  heavy  cowhide  boots,  fell  like  leaden 
weights  upon  her  lap. 

"  And  in  this  indelicate,  inhuman,  and  vise-like  posi- 
tion he  held  her,  lashing  his  horse  to  the  utmost  of  his 
speed,  till  the  cries  of  the  children,  who  had  run 
screeching  imploringly  to  be  taken  with  their  parents^  had 
died  away  behind  the  receding  hill-tops,  and  the  fren- 
zied convulsions  of  the  distracted  mother  had  given  place 
to  a  swoon  of  death-Uke  insensibility,  from  which,  happy 
would  it  have  been  for  her,  had  she  never  recovered. 

"  The  suife rings  of  my  mother  were  indescribable,  both 
physically  and  mentally,  through  that  tedious  journey, 
by  the  disgusting  position  in  which  she  was  compelled 
to  remain  in  the  hours  of  her  unhappy  consciousness, 
and  the  inexpressible  agony  which  she  suffered  by  being 
torn,  with  such  inhuman  voracity,  from  the  helpless 
lambs  of  her  httle  flock. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

kffie's    parents    commence    the    privations    of    pauperism 

UNDER   the   auspices   OF   ALEXANDER    STONEHBART,   ESQ.  —  AN 
unexpected    FRIEND. 

"'/^  EORGE,'    she  whispered,  when  at   nightfall 

VJI  she  laid  her  head  despairingly  upon  his  almost 
pulseless  bosom,  '  George,  is  there  a  God  ?  one  who 
says,  "  Vengeance  is  mine  ;  I  will  repay  ?  "  Tell  me, 
dearest,  is  it  so?  or  am  I  —  am  I  mad,  frenzied,  or 
dreaming  ?  0  George !  have  we  passed  through  so 
much,  and  survived  it,  while  a  just  and  holy  God  has 
been  looking  calmly  down  upon  the  scene  of  wrong  and 
anguish  ? ' 

" '  Hush,  Effie,  dear  ;  God's  arm  is  not  shortened 
that  it  cannot  save,  neither  is  his  ear  heavy  that  it  can- 
not hear. 

"  '  Our  wrongs  and  sufferings  are  all  written  down  in 
His  unerring  Book,  and  in  a  way  that  we  know  not 
of.  He  will  avenge  them,  and  carry  us  safely  through 
the  almost  overwhelming  tide  of  this  dark,  turbid  stream, 
to  the  green  fields  and  smiling  suiilight  beyond. 

"  '  Effie,  where  is  your  courage  of  a  night  ago  ?  How 
many  giants  have  you  left  lifeless  on  the  battlefield  ? 


90  E  F  r  I  E    A  N  D    I  ;     0  R , 

" '  Come,  wifey  dear,'  continued  my  father,  '  cheer 
up,  for  you  know  that  we  must  encourage  each  other, 
or  our  children  will  be  left  unloved  orphans  in  their 
helpless  infancy.' 

"  '  But,  husband,'  said  my  mother,  '  they  are  already 
wrested  from  us  by  a  hand  more  cruel  and  relentless 
than  that  of  death.' 

"  '  Only  for  a  while  is  this  separation  from  us.  I  am 
going  where  I  am  known  ;  and  if  I  can  only  recover 
a  little,  I  shall  soon  find  my  way  to  some  kind,  sym- 
pathetic heart.  And  I  shall  institute  a  complaint 
against  the  tyrannical  treatment  of  to-day,  if  I  live, 
and  God  will  help  the  right,  wifey  mine.' 

"  '  George  ! '  She  could  say,  no  more ;  for  her  head 
nestled  closer  to  his  bosom,  and  her  heart  found  rehef 
in  a  gush  of  friendly,  soothing  tears  —  the  first  that  had 
cooled  the  hot  lava  of  her  burning  brain  since  the  cruel 
separation  from  her  tender  babes. 

"  A  sweet  sleep  stole  over  them,  like  the  soft  whisper- 
ings of  angels.  And  when  the  harsh  voice  of  that 
tyrannical  ofiicial  aroused  them  at  early  dawn,  it  seemed 
like  drawing  them  away  from  the  enchanting  strains  of 
a  seraph's  lyre,  to  the  rack  and  torture  of  some  hated 
inquisition. 

"Oh,  that  night  of  peaceful  repose  !  never  again 
forgotten  through  the  years  which  sped  by  in  their 
after-life  of  shadows  and  sunlight.     That  day  they  ar- 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    91 

rived  at  their  destination,  and  commenced  the  pauper's 
fare  under  the  auspices  of  Alexander  Stoneheart,  Esq. 

"  He  had  his  warm  parlors,  his  soft  carpets,  his  easy 
chairs,  and  comfortable  lounges  ;  and  upon  his  table 
were  savory  meats,  tempting  viands,  delicious  and  invig- 
orating cordials ;  fruits,  foreign  and  domestic,  which 
would  have  been  so  grateful  to  the  tardy  convalescence 
of  my  father,  or  the  varying  cravings  of  my  mother,  in 
her  delicate  situation. 

"  But  no :  '  What  business  have  paupers  with  luxu- 
ries ?  '  said  the  pompous  Esquire. 

"  A  pine  table  in  the  uncarpeted  kitchen,  a  corn-cake, 
fried  pork  and  potatoes,  with  now  and  then  the  deli- 
cious addition  of  salt-fish  and  weak  tea  or  coffee,  made 
from  remnants  Avhich  had  been  removed  from  his  table, 
—  was  good  enough  for  a  pauper's  fare.  And  as  for 
easy  chairs  for  the  sick  ones  —  'Oh,  the  very  idea  was 
presumptuous.     Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ?  ' 

"  But  Esquire  Stoneheart  did  consider  the  delicate 
health  of  my  parents,  at  least  he  thought  so,  enough  to 
grant  them  the  indulgence  of  a  sleeping  apartment  over 
the  cooking-room.  '  It  was  large  enough  for  all  the  fam- 
ily,' so  he  said,  '  and  warm  enough  too,  for  the  chim- 
ney ran  directly  through  the  centre  of  the  room,  warmed 
by  the  heat  below.  The  roaches  might  be  a  little  thick 
there,  but ' 

"  '  La ! '  said  the  fascinating  Miss  Stoneheart,  '  poor 


92  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

folks  are  accustomed  to  such  things.  And  paupers  will 
never  mind  roaches  in  Esquire  Stoneheart's  mansion.' 

" '  Some  paupers  would  not,  mj  dear  Angelica,'  an- 
swered Mrs,  Stoneheart,  complacently  ;  '  but  you  know 
the  Lees  have  been  accustomed  to  a  different  style  of 
living,  —  so  genteel  and  high-minded  withal,  that  I  fear 
we  shall  find  some  trouble  in  bringing  them  down  to 
a  pauper's  fare.' 

" '  Leave  that  to  me,  mother,  and  I  will  soon  make 
them  know  their  places,  as  easily  as  Brown  and  Brindle 
and  Broad-horns  know  their  places  in  the  tie-up. 

"  '  She  has  got  to  serve  us  better  than  to  fold  her 
lady -like  hands,  and  sigh  and  sob  away  the  live-long 
day,  over  the  ease  'and  happiness  which  have  forever 
passed  away. 

"  '  You  know  how  many  old  garments  we  have  got  up 
in  the  garret  ?  Well,  I  am  going  to  have  an  over- 
hauling there,  and  set  her  to  work  upon  them.  It  will 
be  just  the  kind  of  work  for  her,  in  her  present  situa- 
tion, because  she  can  do  it  in  her  own  room,  and  keep 
her  brats  there  too. 

" '  Only  think,  what  nice  large  warm  mats  they  will 
make  for  the  entries,  dining-room,  and  chambers  appro- 
priated to  the  hired  men.  And  he  can  tie  the  thrumbs 
together  which  we  want  to  weave  into  the  horse-blan- 
kets, just  as  well  as  to  lay  there  groaning  and  lounging 
away  his  time,  to  no  possible  purpose.  Oh,  we  can 
make  them  useful,  just  with  a  little  tact  and  persever- 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    93 

ance.  And  I  mean  to  do  it,  too,  for  it  shall  never  be 
said  that  Esquire  Stoneheart's  mansion  contains  any 
live  drones." 

"  A  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  my  parents  at  the 
Stoneheart  mansion,  a  gentleman,  who  had  known  my 
father's  family,  heard  of  his  misfortunes,  and  called  im- 
mediately to  express  his  heart-felt  sympathy  for  them, 
suffering  as  they  were  from  the  afflictive  dispensations 
which  had  so  recently  been  visited  upon  them.  But  he 
had  not  prepared  himself  for  such  a  recital  of  outrage, 
insult,  tyranny,  and  degradation  as  fell  from  their  trem- 
bling lips.  And  oh,  how  he  wept,  when  they  told 
him  of  the  duplicity  practised  upon  them  in  regard  to 
their  innocent  children,  the  scene  which  followed,  and 
their  present  hopeless  position  in  regard  to  them. 

" '  Fear  not,'  said  their  kind  friend,  '  I  will  seek  your 
children,  and,  under  my  own  protection,  if  our  lives  are 
spared,  they  shall  come  safely  to  your  yearning  hearts. 

"  '  And  George,'  he  continued,  addressing  my  father, 
'  arouse  thee  from  this  desponding  torpor.  All  is  not 
yet  hopelessly  lost.  Your  life,  youth,  and  intellect  are 
yet  spared  to  you ;  and  these  dear  ones  too,'  he  said, 
looking  around  upon  the  little  group,  '  are  they  not 
worth  another  effort  ? 

"  '  Come,  George,'  he  continued,  '  I  loved  your  father 
too  well  to  see  his  son  remain  long — a — a  pauper,  and 
in  trouble  too. 

"  I  have  a  little  unoccupied  cottage  a  few  miles  from 


94  EFFIEANDI. 

here,  and  just  the  place  for  such  a  group  as  this.  Take 
it,  and  when  you  have  grown  strong,  and  well,  and  pros- 
perous, buy  it,  if  you  wish,  but  while  you  remain  sick 
and  poor  it  is  yours,  rent  free. 

"  No  thanks,  George  ;  keep  your  seat  Mrs.  Lee  ;  I  have 
as  yet  done  nothing,  and  therefore  wish  for  no  de- 
monstrations of  gratitude.  Yield  yourselves  to  the  repose 
you  so  much  need,  and  in  a  very  few  days  I  will  call  on 
you  again.'  And  he  glided  from  the  room  so  quietly, 
leaving  such  a  ray  of  light,  hope,  and  consolation,  that  it 
seemed  like  the  departure  of  some  heavenly  visitant. 

"  It  was  many  moments  before  either  of  the  occupants 
of  that  dreary  chamber  could  give  utterance,  in  words,  to 
their  deep  and  heart-felt  emotions.  For  my  mother  was 
weeping  convulsively  upon  her  husband's  bosom  ;  and  that 
bosom  was  heaving  and  struggling  with  the  reacting  tide 
of  the  turbid  stream,  through  which  they  had  so  recently 
passed. 

"  '  And  now,'  he  said,  '  oh  now  the  green  fields  are  in 
view,  the  sunlight  is  pouring  its  beatific  efi"algence  into 
my  soul.  I  feel  its  invigorating,  its  life-giving  vitality,  to 
the  heart's  core,  warming  and  stimulating  the  sluggish 
current  through  every  avenue  of  this  emaciated  form. 

"  '  Dear  Effie,'  he  continued,  '  I  can  bear  those  tears 
now  ;  for  I  know  that  they  are  not  born  of  sorrow  and 
anguish,  but  are  like  the  dew-drops  of  a  summer's  mom, 
kissed  away  by  the  cheering  sun-rays  of  prosperity  and 
love.' " 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

ANGELICA     STONEHEARt's     CASKET     OF      TKEA8URES.  TAKEN     BY 

SURPRISE. ESQ.     IIOMEll's     GIFT      OF      GLEN    COTTAGE     TO    THE 

LEES. 

MISS  ANGELICA  had  occupied  much  of  her 
precious  time  amongst  the  old  garments  of  the  rag 
barrels,  arranging  and  rearranging  the  textures,  shades, 
and  colors  to  her  own  precise,  peculiar,  and  refined  taste, 
into  various  piles,  and  then  summing  up  the  probable 
number  of  nice  heavy  mats  which  would  be  made  from 
them  bj  the  delicate  fingers  of  over-nice,  ladylike  pau- 
perism. 

"  And  so,  a  few  mornings  subsequent  to  the  events  nar- 
rated, she  condescended  to  enter  the  little  back  chamber 
over  the  cook-room,  followed  by  a  pauper  with  a  huge 
basket  of  assorted  rags  and  cast-off  clothing  which  she 
was  ordered  to  deposit  upon  the  only  unoccupied  space 
the  small  room  would  allow. 

"  '  Madam,'  she  said  haughtily,  addressing  my  mother, 
'  I  have  observed  that,  for  a  few  days,  you  have  grown 
rapidly  convalescent,  recovering  marvellously  from  the 
woe-begone  appearance  you  assumed  on  your  first  ad- 
mission to  my  father's  keeping.     And  you  are  putting 


96  EFFlEANDi;OR, 

on  airs,  too,  of  dignified  independence,  as  though  you  felt 
not  the  loathsome  degradation  of  a  pauper's  position. 

"  '  You  are  verj  free  indeed  from  the  perplexities  and 
cares  of  domestic  duties,  and  so  loftily  raised  in  the  scale 
of  afiiuence,  as  to  be  the  honored  recipient  of  an  annuity 
provided  by  the  charitable  donations  of  the  residents  of 

B ;   and,  in  acquiescence  to  their  wishes,  my  father 

has  taken  you  within  his  affluent  home. 

"  '  It  may  be  that  has  somewhat  raised  your  ideas  of 
self-consequence.  Indeed,  you  already  assume  the  regal 
dignity  of  an  enthroned  princess.  But  may  I  deign  to 
ask  a  favor  of  your  royal  highness  ? 

" '  There  is  a  casket  of  treasures  which,  by  my  com- 
mands, have  been  deposited  lavishingly  at  your  feet.' 

"  Her  back  was  turned  to  the  door,  and  she  saw  not  a 
tall  form  bending  eagerly  forward,  with  flushed  cheek 
and  kindUng  eyes,  listening  with  painful  interest  to  the 
words  of  insulting  scorn  which  fell  from  her  haughty  lips. 

"  '  Spare  them  further  insult,  Miss,'  he  said,  stepping 
quickly  forward  ;  '  these  are  my  friends,  and  no  longer 
dependents  within  your  affluent  home.' 

"  '  Come,  George,  and  my  dear  Mrs.  Lee,'  he  said, 
taking  her  hand  with  the  warm  cordiality  of  a  true  friend. 
'  This  is  no  place  for  you  in  your  present  state  of  health. 
Come  with  me  ;  the  storm  is  severe  without,  but  you  had 
better  brave  the  raging  elements  than  the  scorn  and  con- 
tempt of  unprincipled  arrogance  and  pride.     Come,  my 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.         97 

dear  friends,  no  more  tears,  for  angds  —  if  angels  can 
weep  —  have  wept  over  your  sorrows,  and  God  himself 
has  come  to  your  assistance.' 

"  Miss  Angelica,  with  blanched  cheek  and  trembling 
step,  made  a  hasty  retreat  from  the  room. 

"  She  well  knew  who  was  this  benevolent  gentleman,  the 
friend  and  benefactor  of  my  parents,  in  this  their  time  of 
bitter  need.  It  was  the  wealthy  Judge  Homer ;  and  his 
son,  a  noble  specimen  of  manhood,  just  graduated  with 
the  highest  collegiate  honors,  had  been  paying  very  par- 
ticular attention  to  Miss  Angelica,  and  was  just  on  the 
eve  of  a  declaration,  or  rather,  he  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind  to  propose  for  her  hand. 

"  But  when  his  father  returned  that  evening,  and  nar- 
rated to  his  son  the  incidents  of  the  morning,  and  the 
part  performed  by  the  beautiful  Angelica,  it  somewhat 
cooled  the  ardor  of  his  love  for  her ;  and  not  wishing  to 
address  in  person  one  whom  he  could  not  now  respect,  he 
penned  her  a  note  of  dismissal ;  and  then,  with  his 
father's  consent,  made  preparations  for  a  tour  to  a 
distant  State. 

"  My  parents  were  speedily  removed  to  the  cottage 
which  Judge  Homer  had  provided  ;  and,  through  his  in- 
fluence, it  was  comfortably  furnished  by  a  few  benevolent 
friends  who  had  known  my  father  in  earlier  days. 

"  And  thus,  by  a  few  dollars,  the  loss  of  which  no  one 


98  EFFIEANDi;OR, 

felt  the  poorer,  they  were  removed  from  the  foul  stigma 
and  degradation  of  pauperism. 

"  But  the  wound,  deep  and  painful,  had  left  its  life-im- 
press upon  their  hearts ;  crushing  down  the  hopes  and 
aspirations  which  had  so  characterized  them  in  other  days. 

"  By  the  influence  of  Judge  Homer,  John  and  Nelly 
were  restored  once  more  to  the  arms  of  our  parents. 
And  when  the  warm  April  suns  and  showers  began  to 
unfold  the  bursting  buds  of  tree  and  flower,  then  I,  a 
wee-bit,  feeble  thing,  came  to  claim  their  love  and  care. 

"  Years  sped  on,  bringing  with  them  the  sunbeams  and 
shadows  of  real  life,  adding  another  and  another  in 
helpless  infancy  to  their  little  flock,  though  not  as  yet 
removing  any  from  them  by  the  relentless  hand  of  death. 

"  And  so  they  struggled  on,  meekly  and  calmly,  hoping 
and  praying  that  the  bright  elysium  would  yet  open  to 
their  view,  and  crown  their  unceasing  efibrts. 

"But  every  succeeding  year  brought  them  only  what 
the  past  had  done,  an  addition  to  their  family,  or  ex- 
penses incurred  by  sickness,  or  misfortunes  in  various 
other  ways  beyond  their  power  to  avert. 

"  '  Thus  far  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  further,'  seemed 
written  upon  the  success  for  which  they  had  struggled  so 
hopefully  and  so  long.  And  my  father,  mentally  and 
physically  shattered,  grew  inert  and  desponding  ;  and 
my  mother,  feeble  and  emaciated  from  the  weight  of  sor- 
row and  the  many  cares  which  oppressed  her. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.    99 

"  John  was  obliged  to  leave  his  books  and  go  to  service. 
Farmer  Smith  held  out  glowing  inducements  to  him, 
which  he  accepted  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  ones  at  home. 

"  '  Let  us  trust  that  God  rules  the  destinies  of  men,' 
said  my  mother,  encouragingly  to  him, '  and  may  be  that 
something  will  turn  up  for  the  better  by-and-by. 

"  'After  all,  it  is  not  so  bad,  Johnny  ;  you  will  be  so  near 
home,  and  can  run  in  and  play  a  bit  with  the  baby,  romp 
with  Nelly,  and  spin  the  top  a  moment  for  Charley,  read 
a  story  or  two  for  Eddy,  and  bring  m*e  fresh  wild  flowers 
every  morning  from  your  own  favorite  dell,  for  my  little 
vase  on  the  mantle  nook ;  and  when  you  are  sick,  you 
can  come  to  me,  and  I  shall  nurse  you  so  tenderly.  0 
John,  it  might  be  worse.  Cheer  up,  my  noble  boy,  and 
hope  for  the  best.' 

"  And  farmer  Smith  laid  his  broad,  hard  palm  caress- 
ingly upon  his  shoulder,  and  said  cheerfully, '  You  must  be 
my  Johnny  now.  Bright  and  Golden  are  lazily  chewing 
their  cuds,  waiting  for  the  plow-boy's  whistle  and  smart 
"  jee-up."  The  little  black  pony  is  capering  at  will  over 
the  highlands  and  lowlands,  for  want  of  an  expert  little 
rider.  Old  Rove  stretches  himself  at  leisure  in  his  little 
sunny  nook,  waiting  for  a  companion  to  chase  the  cunning 
fox,  the  boundin*  doe,  the  nimble  squirrel,  and  explore 
the  underground  castles  of  the  timid  ^are. 

"  '  The  fields  of  grain  are  waving  their  golden  heads  in- 
vitingly for  the  glittering  sickle,  and  the  reaper's  song. 


100  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

And  then  will  come  the  long  merry  hay-days,  and  corn- 
huskings,  and  apple-frolics,  and  cider-making,  and  —  oh, 
such  jolly  times  as  we  farmers  have,  worth  all  the  schools 
and  books,  pronouns  and  professions  in  Christendom.' 

"  Time  passed  on,  but  my  brother  found  no  time  for 
laughter  or  pleasant  interchanges  with  the  dear  ones 
at  home. 

"  The  wee-bit  baby  had  turned  his  violet  eyes,  with  a 
coaxing '  goo-goo,'  many,  many  times  to  the  cottage  door 
for  the  wonted  smile  and  caress. 

"  Charlie's  top  lay  unspun,  the  stories  unread  ;  Nelly 
moped  and  sighed  for  the  gleesome  romp ;  the  flowers 
had  withered  in  the  vase,  which  stood  untouched  in  the 
little  nook. 

"  Old  Rove  was  still  stretching  himself  at  leisure,  for 
the  want  of  a  companion  in  the  merry  chase  ;  the  little 
black  pony  bounded  as  lightly  as  ever  over  the  highlands 
and  lowlands,  waiting  for  his  expert  Uttle  rider. 

"  His  reaper's  song  was  the  song  of  the  captive.  '  The 
long,  merry  hay-days '  were  any  thing  but  a  pastime 
and  mirthfulness. 

•  "  Work,  work,  work,  from  early  morn  till  the  eventide. 
No  days  for  relaxation.  No  hours  for  careless  sport  on 
the  smooth  green  lawn,  where  the  restless  school-boy 
rolled  his  ball  and,  hoop. 

"  No  time  to  ease  his  heart-yearnings  and  heart-achings 
with  books  or  play.     But  in  the  deep  midnight  hour, 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   101 

when  none  but  the  All-seeing  witnessed  his  lofty  aspira- 
tions, he  resolved  to  press  onward  and  upward,  never 
diverging  from  the  right,  though  myriads  of  formidable 
barriers  should  appear  to  obstruct  his  progress. 

"  '  Great  men  have  Hved  before  me,'  he  said  ;  '  great 
men  will  live  after  me.  And  what  has  made  them 
great  ?  What  more  will  make  them  great,  but  in- 
domitable will  and  perseverance  ?  They  are  at  my  com- 
mand, they  shall  be  my  servants.  The  path  to  honor 
is  not  one  of  repose  ;  nor  can  I  hope  to  be  transported, 
without  an  effort,  to  the  enchanting  bowers  of  paradisi- 
acal ease  and  beauty.  But  "  onward  and  upward  "  shall 
be  my  motto,  never  diverging  from  the  right  till  the 
elysian  is  in  view,  and  the  prize  won  and  secured.' 


CHAPTER    XV. 

life's     changes. THE    LEES    IN    GLEN    COTTAGE.  —  THE   FEARFUL 

VISITANT. EFFIE    AND    HER    BROTHER    ALONE. 

FIFTEEN  YEARS!  What  a  long  space  in 
the  annals  of  time.  How  manj  have  grown  from 
childhood  to  youth.  How  manj  from  youth  to  manhood. 
How  many  from  maturity  have  passed  somewhat  adown 
the  shady  side,  and  from  green  old  age  to  helpless  im- 
becility. 

"  Many,  with  joyful  acclamations,  have  been  ushered 
into  existence  ;  and  many,  with  the  wail  of  despair  and 
broken  hopes,  have  passed  along  to  the  spirit-land. 

"  Fortunes  have  been  won  and  lost.  Friends  have 
deserted  and  forgotten.  Eyes  have  wept,  hearts  have 
bled,  which  have  been  unused  to  sorrow.  And  death 
has  borne  along,  on  the  sweeping  tide,  the  rich  spoils  he 
has  gathered  in  the  space  of  fifteen  long  years. 

"  And  they  had  passed  away  since  my  parents  took 
possession  of  their  cottage  home,  and  I  had  come  with 
feeble  wail  to  claim  their  love  and  care.  Time  and 
sorrow  had  not  passed  lightly  over  that  humble  home  ; 
for  the  voices  of  gladness  and  mirth,  that  erst  rever- 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      103 

berated  there,  were  hushed,  one    after  another,  in  the 
silence  of  sorrow  and  death. 

"  Yes,  that  stern  messenger,  Death,  entered  many 
times  unbidden  that  cottage  door. 

"  First,  the  joyful  carol  of  the  baby-pet  was  hushed  in 
death.  The  tiny,  waxen  fingers  lay  motionless  over  the 
pulseless  bosom  ;  and  the  soft,  blue-veined  lids  drooped 
heavily  over  the  violet-tinted  eyes. 

"  How  the  little  band  then  flocked  together  to  weep 
their  tears  of  sorrow  over  our  little  wee-pet,  and 
whisper  a  word  of  condolence  to  each  stricken  heart. 
Oh  !  it  was  sorrow  such  as  had  never  before  visited  our 
humble  home. 

"  The  little  family  had  been  scattered  long  before,  but' 
not  in   death.     Other  homes  had  sheltered  them,   but 
sometimes  they  fled  back  to  our  own  home-nest  to  mingle 
together  our  tears  of  joy  and  sorrow. 

"  Now  one  had  departed.  Our  little  household  idol 
had  been  shattered,  and  our  hearts  bled  that  it  must  be 
so.  How  silent  and  desolate  seemed  our  home,  when 
its  joyful  carols  were  hushed.  0  Death !  how  unwel- 
come were  thy  visitations  in  our  little  home.  Not  one 
too  many  had  ever  come  to  gladden  our  humble  abode. 
Poor,  but  the  mite  was  not  meagrely  divided. 

"  The  turf  was  yet  fresh  over  the  baby's  little  grave, 
when  another  little  mound  was  raised  by  its  tiny  side. 
Charley  had  laid  himself  wearily  down  beside  his  childish 


104  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

tojs,  as  a  white-winged  seraph  floated  around  him,  whis- 
pering of  heaven,  of  golden  harps,  of  angel  bands ; 
wooing  him  with  soft,  delicious,  and  enchanting  strains 
to  her  happy  spirit-home. 

"  Then  Eddy,  the  little  studious  Eddy,  grew  pale  and 
wan  and  weary.  A  brighter  light  was  in  his  eye,  a 
deeper  flush  was  on  his  cheek,  and  a  hollow  cough  fell 
like  a  funereal  knell  upon  the  heart  of  his  anxious  mother. 
Nought  could  save  him ;  for  when  the  autumn  winds 
swept  rudely  by,  and  the  summer  flowers  faded  away  from 
the  earth,  then  they  laid  him  quietly  down  beside  the 
baby's  grave,  in  the  long  and  sweet  repose  of  death. 

"  Then  Nelly,  the  eldest  born,  so  good  and  gentle 
withal,  she  in  whom  my  mother  had  trusted  to  lean 
upon  in  life's  decline,  passed  away  like  a  summer  flower ; 
and  oh !  how  we  missed  her  in  our  cottage  home.  We 
missed  her  gleesome  laugh,  her  lightsome  song,  her  sis- 
terly greetings,  and  welcome  smiles.  We  missed  her  by 
the  hearth-stone,  where  we  wept  in  heart-felt  sorrow  over 
her  untimely  departure. 

"  Oh  !  how  desolate  had  our  home  become  ;  none  now 
remained  in  that  dear  home-nest  but  John  and  myself  to 
cheer  the  hearts  of  our  stricken  parents.  And  yet  the 
cravings  of  death  were  not  appeased,  till  husband  and 
sire  had  been  sacrificed  upon  the  funereal  pyre ;  and  we 
and  my  mother  returned  alone  and  broken-hearted  to 
our  desolate  home  and  silent  hearth. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   105 

"  Mj  mother  lived  on,  but  hope  seemed  to  have  taken 
its  final  departure  from  her.  There  were  no  bright  rays 
peering  through  the  deep  dark  folds  which  closed  so 
ominously  around  her  in  those  hours  of  widowed  loneli- 
ness. 

"  But  one  day  the  death-summons  came  to  her,  and 
sudden  and  fearful  was  his  coming. 

"  A  deep  groan  of  anguish  arrested  my  ear.  I  knew  my 
mother  was  dying,  for  the  purple  life-blood  oozed  slowly 
out  from  her  pale,  rigid  lips,  while  she  fell  heavily  back 
into  my  extended  arms,  murmuring,  in  broken  accents, 
'  God  help  you,  my  children,  for  you  will  soon  be  alone  — 
alone  —  in  a  cold  —  cold  —  world.     Alone  — ' 

"  '  0  mother !  mother ! '  I  cried,  in  frantic  dismay, 
'  you  must  not,  cannot  die,  and  leave  us  here  alone. 
God  will  not  take  you  from  us.  He  will  not  lay  His 
hand  so  unkindly,  so  heavily  upon  us. 

"  '  Has  He  not  already  made  our  home  and  our  hearts 
desolate  ?  Oh,  so  desolate !  And  will  He  now  be  so 
unjust  as  to  tear  asunder  the  bleeding,  quivering  wounds, 
deep  in  the  heart's  core.  His  oft-repeated  scourge  has 
inflicted  there  ? 

" '  Can  God  be  merciful,'  I  asked,  in  that  moment 
of  frantic  grief,  '  and  yet  deal  so  unkindly  with  the 
creatures  He  has  made  in  His  own  likeness  and  for 
His  own  pleasure  ? 

"  '  What  have  we  done  to  call  down  His  vengeance  so 


106  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

oft  and  so  heavily  upon  us  ?  Oh  God !  —  if  there  is  a 
God,  —  stay  thy  hand,  and  spare  the  remaining  victims 
of  thy  fearful,  unmerited  vengeance.' 

"  '  Effie ! '  whispered  my  dying  mother,  '  there  is  a 
God.  Never,  no  never,  in  all  the  sorrows  of  thy  after- 
life, give  up  thy  hope,  thy  trust  in  Him.  He  will  surely 
be  to  thee  an  anchor  firm  and  steadfast  as  the  Rock  of 
Ages. 

"  '  Lean  upon  Him  in  all  the  ills  that  betide  thee,  and 
it  will  be  well.  I  am  dying  ;  trust  in  God,  my  children, 
and  you  will  find  Him  all-sufficient.  He  will  never, 
never  forsake  you.' 

"  '  0  mother  !  mother  ! '  I  cried  in  dismay,  '  you 
must  not  die !  We  cannot  part  with  you !  We  cannot 
live  without  your  love !  0  mother !  stay  yet  a  little 
while  longer,  or  take  us  with  you.' 

"  But  she  heard  not  my  frantic  appeal,  for  the  pulses 
had  ceased  their  vibrations,  and  that  loved  form  was 
cold  and  rigid  in  death. 

"  Who  can  portray  the  feelings  of  a  desolate  one,  when 
all  of  life  and  love  and  hope  have  departed ;  when  all 
the  heart-blossoms  have  withered  and  faded  away ;  when 
hope's  meteor  light  no  longer  flashes  in  the  distance; 
and  despair  throws  around  us  the  drapery  of  sable 
gloom  ? 

"  It  was  thus  with  me  and  my  brother,  as  we  sat  by 
the  vacant  hearth  in  our  silent  and  desolate  home.     No 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL. 


107 


lightsome  tread  or  gladsome  voice  cheered  its  silent 
gloom.  No  friendly  condolence  fell  like  the  healing 
balm  upon  our  wounded  hearts.  No  strong  arm  was 
extended  to  lead  and  support  us  through  life's  dreary 
pathway. 

"  Oh,  how  we  missed  the  glad  voices  that  erst  rang 
out  in  innocent  glee,  when  we  romped  together  in  our 
childish  sports.  ]But  they  had  all  passed  away,  and  a 
sad,  sad  change  had  been  wrought  in  our  childhood's 
home.'' 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

EFFIe'S   BKOTHEK   becomes   a    student.  —  HIS   SUDDEN   DEATH. — 
EFFIE    ALONE    AND    HOMELESS. — RESORTS    TO    A    COTTON    MILL. 

—  KATE  Stanton's  debut. 

"  /~\  U  R  HOME  became  insupportable  to  us  in  its 
\y  loneliness,  after  thej  had  all  passed  awaj ;  and 
as  my  brother  was  wishing  to  pursue  his  education,  we 
proposed  to  dispose  of  the  cottage  and  a  few  acres  of 
land  belonging  to  it ;  the  proceeds  of  which  would  enable 
him  to  go  forward  in  that  desired  object. 

"  I  was  to  remain  with  an  acquaintance  until  he  could 
mafce  provision  for  me,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Institution, 
where  he  designed  to  pursue  his  studies,  the  completion 
of  which  would  prepare  him  for  usefulness  and  honoi:  in 
the  ranks  of  the  world. 

"  He  had  been  a  student  in  that  institution  about  six 
months,  when  a  letter  reached  me  with  the  information 
that  he  had  procured  for  me  a  very  desirable  situation 
in  the  family  of  one  of  the  teachers,  where  I  could  have 
the  benefit  of  a  superior  school,  the  advantages  of  a  quiet 
home  and  daily  intercourse  with  him,  for  the  mere 
trifling   expense  of  a  few  hours   of  needle-work,   daily 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      109 

given  to  the  family  as  a  recompense  for  my  board.  I 
thankfully  availed  myself  of  this  proposal,  and  immedi- 
ately set  out,  in  compliance  with  his  request,  to  join  him 

in  the  distant  village  of  A ,  and  take  up  my  abode 

in  a  stranger's  home. 

"  When  1  arrived  I  found  my  brother  in  the  wild 
delirium  of  a  malignant  fever.  The  old  doctor  shook 
his  head  ominously,  when  I  wildly  interrogated  him  for  a 
word  of  hope  and  encouragement,  in  relation  to  his 
recovery. 

"  My  heart  had  been  bounding  and  leaping,  with  hope- 
ful anticipations,  through  that  long,  and  it  seemed  almost 
endless  journey,  to  meet  my  dear,  my  only  brother, 
where  I  could  weep  out  all  my  heart-sorrows,  and  twine 
a  garland  from  my  newly  fledged  hopes  and  the  bursting 
flower-buds  which  had  so  recently  sprung  up  beneath  the 
sunny  rays  of  my  young  life-path,  reaching  far  away  into 
the  undimmed  future. 

"  And  I  could  not,  oh,  I  could  not  fall  back  again 
into  the  dark  shadows  which  had  ever  before  thrown 
around  me  their  bereaving  shroud. 

"  A  few  hours  after  my  arrival,  my  brother  lay  still 
and  cold  in  the  repose  of  death,  in  the  sleep  that  knows 
no  earth-waking. 

"  Many  were  the  prayers  which  were  ofiered  up  to  the 
orphan's  God  for  the  bereft  sister.  Many  were  the 
tears     of    sympathy   which    fell    unfeignedly    for    the 

10 


110  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

orphaned  stranger.  Many  were  the  words  of  condolence 
which  trembled  upon  the  lips,  to  soothe  my  heart-anguish. 
All,  all  were  like  mockeries  to  mj  stricken  and  desolate 
heart. 

"  I  could  not  be  comforted.  There  was  no  earth- 
balm  that  could  heal  the  bleeding  lacerations  of  my  lone 
heart ;  and  I  cried  out,  in  my  deep  anguish,  with  the 
psalmist :  '  Lover  and  Mend  hast  thou  put  far  from  me, 
and  mine  acquaintance  into  darkness.' 

"  They  buried  him  beneath  the  cypress  shade,  in  the 
little  enclosure  appropriated  to  the  stranger  and  student, 
while  his  classmates  and  friends  reared  a  memento  of 
respect  above  his  silent  resting-place. 

"  I  could  not  remain  in  A ;  I  could  not  return  to 

the  desolations  of" my  childhood's  home;  for  every  asso- 
ciation was  so  interwoven  with  the  dark,  painful,  afficting 
bereavements  of  the  past,  as  to  make  remembrance,  and 
evea  life  itself,  unendurable. 

"  Study  seemed  loathsome  to  the  overwrought  emo- 
tions^  of  my  bereaved  heart ;  and  I  longed  for  forgetfiil- 
ness,  for  annihilation  even,  to  shroud  me  from  the  painful, 
insupportable  memories  of  the  past. 

"  But  death  and  forgetfulness  come  not  at  our  bidding ; 
and  80  I  hav«  sought  the  din,  and  clatter,  and  excite- 
ments of  a  cotton  mill  to  lull " 

A  loud  peal  of  merry  laughter  broke  like  a  flood  of 
sunlight  upon  the    orphan's  sad  recital ;   and  the  next 


SEVEN    TEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      Ill 

moment  a  gay,  laughing,  rollicking  girl,  bounded  into  the 
room,  setting  chairs,  tables,  and  band-boxes  to  dancing 
Yankee  reels  and  devil's  jigs,  by  the  wild  outbursts  of 
her  youthful  hilarity,  "  which,"  she  said,  "  was  just  as 
much  a  part  and  parcel  of  her  nature,  as  the  marrow 
was  to  the  bone  of  Jack  the  Giant-killer. 

"  I  am,"  she  continued,  "just  as  natural  as  a  natural 
fool ;  and  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  conceal  my  cloven 
foot,  even  if  King  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory,  should  appear 
before  me  in  the  dazzling  radiance  of  his  majesty  and 
power. 

"  Sister  Sarah,  that  little  demure  Methodist  girl, 
whom  Mother  Gourdon  designates  my  '  chum,'  tells  me 
that  I'm  in  the  broad  road  to  destruction,  and  unless  I 
wheel  about  and  take  up  my  burden,  and  creep  through 
the  little  narrow  gate,  or  the  camel's  eye  —  I've  forgot- 
ten which,  —  that  there  '11  be  no  mercy  or  hope  for  me. 
Just  as  if  such  a  leopard  as  I  could  change  these  spots 
for  the  snowy  plumage  of  a  dove,  or  an  angel's  drapery. 

"  I  can  digest  her  '  amens,'  and '  glories,'  and  '  halle 
—  hallelujah's,'  and  all  that ;  but  her  fire  and  brimstone* 
I  can't  swallow." 

"  0  Kate  Stanton !  will  you  never  give  over  your 
wild  freaks  ?  "  said  a  soft  voice  behind  me,  and  looking 
up  I  saw  a  very  sweet,  placid  face,  half  hidden  within  the 
deep  shadow  of  a  plain  Shaker  bonnet,  with  large  dark 


112  EFFIE    AND     I  ;     OR, 

eyes  bent  half  sadly,  half  reproachfully,  upon  the  gay 
girl  whom  she  had  designated  as  Kate  Stanton. 

"  Wild  oats  must  be  sown,  sister  Sarah,  and  the  sooner 
they  are  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  the  better  it  will  be 
for  the  peace  of  all  concerned. 

"  So  let  me  Avork  Avhile  the  day  lasts,  and  the  sun 
shines,  and  the  flowers  bloom,  and  the  rivulets  leap,  and 
dance,  and  sing,  for  the  joy  that  now  is  ;  while  the  rain- 
bow of  hope  and  promise  is  bright  and  undimmed  in  my 
life-sky. 

"  Dark  clouds  will  come  soon  enough,  and  until  they 
do, 

*  We'll  make  the  best  of  life  we  can, 

Nor  render  it  a  curse.' 

She  went  on,  singing  in  her  wild,  rolhcking  glee, 

*  And  since  we  are  here,  with  friends  so  dear, 

We'll  drive  dull  cares  away.' 

"  I  shall  remember  you  at  the  throne  of  grace,  Kate," 
said  sister  Sarah,  meekly,  as  she  took  her  little  book  of 
Revival  Hymns,  and  went  noislessly  out  to  meet  her 
brethren  in  the  social  class. 

"  I  shall  be  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  sister  Sarah, 
if  you  will ;  for  I  always  like  to  be  remembered  to  my 
best  friends.  Only  I  wish  I  was  a  little  more  worthy  of 
remembrance.     But  don't  sing  that  dubious  song,  '  We 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      113 

won't  go  home  till  morning  ; '  because,  if  you  do,-  you  will 
find  me,  and  the  bed  too,  a  dreadful  one-sided  affair 
when  you  do  come. 

'  Sing  me  the  songs  that  I  used  to  hear, 
Long,  long  ago  —  long,  long  ago.'  " 

The  pale,  drooping  Effie,  had  nestled  closer  to  my  side, 
and  pillowed  her  bright  head  lovingly  upon  my  shoulder, 
while  the  gay  Kate  Stanton  flitted  out  and  in  like  a 
fairy  elf,  carrying  sunshine  and  gladness  wherever-  she 
went,  till  the  heavy  booming  of  the  factory  bells  an- 
nounced the  hour  of  bedtime. 


10* 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

EFFIB   BECOMES    A    FACTORY    GIRL.  —  KATE    STANTON    TAKING    LES- 
SONS   IN    THE    MYSTERIES    OF   WOMAN'S   RIGHTS. 

THE  NEXT  morning  Effie  and  I  mingled  with 
the  throng  which  rushed  through  the  ample  gate- 
way, or  thoroughfare,  opening  into  the  M yard  ; 

where  she,  for  the  first  time,  was  ushered  into  a  cotton 
mill,  and  introduced  to  my  overseer,  who  readily  con- 
sented to  receive  her. 

Informing  her  that  she  could  be  my  "  spare  hand," 
for  a  week  or  two ;  and  by  that  time  the  looms  adjoining 
mine  would  be  vacated  by  the  present  occupant,  who 
was  already  on  her  notice,  to  which  she  should  be  the 
successor. 

Effie's  large  blue  eyes  gUstened  with  a  hopeful  tear  at 
this  announcement,  and  her  pale  cheek  flushed  with 
animation,  when  I  answered  her  interrogation,  as  to  the 
meaning  of  "  spare  hand." 

"Then  we  are  not  to  be  separated,  Rosa  dear?" 
she  ejaculated.  "  This  is  so  kind ;  I  know  my  task  will 
be  light  and  pleasant  too,  with  you  always  by  my  side. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.     115 

How  much  I  have  to   thank  you  for,  my  very  dear 
friend." 

So  Effie  and  I  became  inseparable  companions.  I 
instructed  her  in  the  art  and  mysteries  of  clogs,  belts^, 
drums,  flying  shuttles,  dresser's  knots,  and  the  many 
little  essentials  belonging  to  a  good  weaver ;  to  all  of 
which  I  found  her  an  expert  and  tractable  pupil,  as  well 
as  companion  and  friend. 

Thus  days  and  weeks  and  months  flew  pleasantly  and 
rapidly  by,  with  very  little  change  or  variation,  save  an 
occasional  letter  from  our  friends,  or  some  wild,  uproarious 
freak  of  Kate  Stanton,  with  the  little  sanctimonious  sister 
Sarah,  which  always  ended  with  a  halle-hallelujah  from 
the  little  Revival  Hymn-book,  or  the  promise  that  she 
would  make  her  the  burden  of  her  prayers  the  next  class- 
night.  "  And,"  she  continued,  "  I  have  faith  to  belie v- 
that  the  time  will  come  when_  you  will  be  one  of  the 
strong  pillars  of  the  church  which  you  now  so  lightly  and 
thoughtlessly  revile." 

"  And  when  I  do,  sister  Sarah,"  answered  Kate,  laugh- 
ingly, "  you  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  never  be  guilty  of 
hiding  my  light  under  a  bushel,  nor  burying  my  talent 
in  the  sand-bank.  But  you  will  find  me  in  the  pulpit,  or 
on  the  house-top,  or  a  watchman  upon  the  strong  walls  of 
Bashan,  or  a  travelling  preacher,  with  the  whole  world 
for  a  circuit. 

"  But  your  itinerants  and  locals,  and  superannuaries. 


116  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

x's,  and  units,  pshaw,  I  shall  make  a  shaking  amongst 
the  dry  bones  when  I  do  start,  sister  Sarah,  which  will 
make  up  for  all  the  time  I  have  wasted  in  my  outfit  and 
Vanity  Fair  preparations.  I  am  even  now  taking  lessons 
in  the  mysteries  of  woman's  rights,  and  when  I  have  so 
far  advanced  as  to  be  a  good  imitator  of  Lucy  Stone,  or 
some  of  her  contemptibles,  I  am  going  to  start  out  on  a 
lecturing  tour  against  the  rights  of  man  generally,  from 
the  Lilliputian  Tom  Thumb  to  old  Adam,  away  back  in 
the  garden  of  Eden,  who  didn't  know  any  better  than  to 
nibble  that  apple,  just  because  his  silly  wife  told  him  that 
he  must. 

"  Wasn't  he  a  thorough-going  woman's  rights  man  ? 
And  didn't  that  sarpent  know  it  too,  when  he  offered  her 
that  apple,  and  told  her  to  give  Adam  a  piece,  and  all 
that. 

"  Well,  so  you  see  that  through  her  means  the  whole 
world  has  become  depopulated  ;  and  Eden  is  not  the  only 
place  that  has  Adams  and  Eves,  and  sarpents  and  apples, 
and  advocates  of  the  woman's  rights  system.  Mother 
Eve  has  got  some  representatives  left  yet,  and  daughters 
too,  who  wouldn't  mind  nibbling  an  apple  now  and  then, 
with  an  Adam  or  too  to  munch  the  other  side  of  it. 

"  I  say  it  is  time  that  there  were  some  strong-minded 
women,  like  myself,  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  weaker 
party.  And  I'll  do  it,  only  let  me  get  my  lesson  first, 
and  there  will  be  more  than  one  broken  jug  that  will  cry 
out  *  Katy-did.' " 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      117 

"  But  I'm  going  out  now,  and  spring  is  coming  in, 
that  gaj,  laughing,  rollicking,  dancing  spring,  just  like 
this  wildwood  Kate. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  out ;  out  of  the  mill,  out  of  the 
boarding-house,  out  of  the  Spindle  Citj,  out  into  the 
broad  sunlight,  out  into  the  country,  out  among  the 
flowers,  out  into  the  wildwoods  and  glens  and  mountain 
passes,  out  into  the  clear,  free  dancing  zephjrs,  and,  out 
of  my  wits,  I  verily  believe,  for  the  kind  condescension 
of  my  mother,  in  permitting  me  to  undertake  this  great 
feat  of  visiting  her  and  my  home  in  the  back-woods,  after 
eighteen  months  of  this  nunnery  sort  of  hfe  in  a  cotton- 
mill. 

"  But  don't  flatter  yourself,  sister  Sarah,  that  there  is 
any  peace  for  the  wicked ;  for  I'm  coming  back  again. 
'  Oh,  a  factory  life  is  the  life  for  me,'  "  she  sang  gaily. 
"  Yes,  I'm  coming  back  again  after  the  sacrifice  has  been 
offered  up.  For  wild  as  I  am,  I  never  could  look  calmly 
upon  martyrdom  and  the  offering  up  of  innocence  upon 
the  altar  of  a " 

"  What  mean  you,  Kate  ?  "  I  asked,  surprised  at  the 
turn  her  raillery  had  taken. 

"  What  mean  I,  Rosa  ?  "  Why,  I  mean  that  the  lamb 
never  can  lie  down  with  the  wolf  in  these  degenerate 
times,  without  making  the  sacrifice  of  life  and  limb  for 
its  innocent  presumption. 

"  That   little  weeping  willow  of  ours,  or  yours,  pure 


118  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

as  the  snow-flake,  spotless  as  the  lily's  folds,  beautiful  as 
the  morning,  gentle  as  the  floating  zephyr  of  a  summer's 
eve,  unsuspecting  as  the  cooing  dove,  is  about  to  make  a 
sacrifice  of  all,  and  more,  of  happiness  and  life,  to  that 
Balaam's  a —  long-eared  colt.  Oh,  I  lose  all  patience 
when  I  think  how  blinded  you  all  are  by  the  false 
blandishments  and  pretensions  assumed  by  that  un- 
principled, heartless  villain,  Wilton  Harriman." 

"  If  he  is  a  villain,  Kate,  he  wears  his  mask  well.  For 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  never  seen  one  more  perfectly 
a  gentleman,  more  noble  in  heart  and  soul  and  principle, 
than  Wilton  Harriman.  And  so  active,  too,  in  the  church, 
in  the  prayer-meetings,  so  earnest  in  his  exhortations  to 
the  unconverted " 

"  All  moonshine,  Rosa ;  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing, 
artfully  concealing  his  long  ears  and  claws  from  the  little 
lamb  he  has  singled  out,  to  gloat  himself  at  leisure  upon 
the  warm  life-blood  of  her  young  heart,  till  the  sacrifice 
is  complete.  Why,  I  do  beUeve  that  Nature  herself  will 
cry  out  against  this  unequal  —  oh,  I  know  not  what  to  call 
it ;  for  the  day  has  not  arrived  when  the  lamb  and  the 
lion  can  lie  down  together  in  peaceful  security  and 
happy  trust." 

"  Nevertheless,  Kate,  I  hope,  for  dear  Effie's  sake,  that 
your  penetration  will  prove  defective  for  once  in  your 
life.  And  I  even  think  it  wjll.  For,  aside  from  his  pre- 
possessing appearance,  his  lofty  principle,  and  unblemished 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      1J9 

character,  he  has  a  home  of  comfort  and  security  to  offer 
to  our  stricken  lamb,  our  orphaned  Effie." 

"  Better  a  thousand,  a  thousand  times  better  spend 
her  life  in  a  cotton  mill,  free  from  care  and  from  sorrow 
as  the  mountain  zephyrs  which  fan  the  wild  flowers  by 
the  dancing  stream. 

"  No,  I  can  never  see  her  give  that  little  sinless  hand 
into  the  keeping  of  a  tyrant's  sensual  grasp.  I  am  going 
home,  and  when  I  return  again  the  sacrifice  will  be  made, 
and  EflSe  will  be  far  away." 


CHAPTER    XVIII.     . 

KATE    STANTON    GONE     TO     THE    WILD-WOODS. — EFFIE    BECOMES    A 
BHIDE.  —  HER   HAPPY    LEAVE-TAKING. 

ONE  YEAR  had  flown  happily  by  since  EflBe's 
introduction  to  factory  life  ;  and  she  had  grown  very 
beautiful  and  hopeful  and  lovely,  when  Wilton  Harriman 
came  a  stranger  to  our  city,  and,  attracted  by  her  beauty 
and  gentleness  withal,  he  sought  and  won  her  for  his 
trusting  bride. 

A  new  life  seemed  to  dawn  upon  her,  lighting,  with 
unclouded  brilliancy,  the  far-off  future  ;  for  Effie's  warm, 
impulsive  nature,  seemed  at  once  to  yield  to  the  cheer- 
ing influence  of  his  bland  smiles  and  tender  wooings. 

And  when  he  asked  her  to  become  his  own  little  wife, 
and  go  with  him  to  his  rural  home,  she  laid  her  hand  all 
trustingly  within  his,  and  murmured  forth  her  heart's 
devotion,  all  unconscious  that  treachery  lay  concealed 
beneath  that  handsome,  calm,  and  graceful  exterior. 

She  could  not  penetrate  with  her  love-blinded  eyes,  as 
Kate  did,  his  shallow-heartedness,  or  see  the  dark  plague- 
spots   which    lay  concealed   beneath   the   assumed   ex- 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   121 

pression  of  devotional  love  and  tenderness,  which  he  so 
well  knew  how  to  call  forth  subservient  to  his  -will. 

The  winter  had  passed,  the  spring-tide  was  chanting 
melodies  all  around  us.  Kate  had  flown  to  her  native 
bowers,  and  May,  beautiful,  joyous,  laughing  May,  had 
come  to  twine  a  bridal  wreath  of  sunshine  and  flowers 
around  the  fair  white  brow  of  the  happy  bride. 

They  were  to  be  married  at  the  parsonage ;  and  every 
arrangement  had  been  completed  for  them  to  proceed 
directly  to  their  distant  home. 

The  bridal  morning  dawned,  but  the  sky  was  com- 
pletely shrouded  in  the  pall-like  blackness  of  the  tomb, 
and  the  rain  poured  down  in  fearful  torrents  upon  the 
already  drenched  earth. 

Not  even  a  zephyr  swept  by  to  change  the  fearful 
monotony  of  that  bridal  morn.  Were  Kate's  words  pro- 
phetic ?  which  said,  "  I  do  believe  that  nature  will  cry 
out  against  this  unequal  —  oh,  I  know  not  what  to  call  it." 

A  something  seemed  to  whisper,  "  they  were.  Nature 
weeps  over  the  dark  fate  of  the  orphan  bride."  How  I 
would  at  that  moment  have  plucked  her  as  a  brand  from 
the  burning,  and  sheltered  that  innocent  lamb,  in  my 
heart  of  hearts,  from  the  fire  and  the  altar  upon  which  I 
feared  the  love  and  hopes  of  her  young  life  must  SQ  soon 
be  offered  up  as  a  sacrifice. 

I  would  not,  for  the  world,  have  breathed  my  sus- 
11 


122  EFFIE    AND    Ij     OR, 

picions  to  Effie,  for  she  looked  upon  him  as  a  being  of 
immaculate  purity  and  perfection. 

They  were  married ;  and,  when  the  guests  had  all 
departed,  I  pressed  her  hands  within  my  own,  and 
looked  down,  down,  through  the  clear  depths  of  her 
love-lit  eyes,  into  the  heart  where  no  guile  or  fear  of 
treachery  had  ever  entered. 

"  Effie,"  I  whispered,  "  you  are  happy  now ;  and 
God  grant  that  the  love-light  which  now  throws  its  ra- 
diance upon  your  hfe-path,  may  never  again  be  dark- 
ened by  the  storm-clouds  of  sorrow.  But  should  they 
come  upon  you,  Effie,"  I  said,  with  emphasis,  "  as  come 
they  may,  then  come  to  me,  and  remember  that  my 
heart  and  hand  are  ready  to  receive  you. 

"  Although  all  others  turn  coldly  away,  and  pass  by 
on  the  other  side,  regardless  of  your  need,  this  heart 
will  ever  be  ready  to  receive  and  cherish  you.  I  am 
your  long-tried  friend,  and  you  know  that  I  am  not  one 
to  change  lightly." 

Effie  could  not  speak  the  words  which  trembled  upon 
her  lips,  but  I  read,  in  the  expression  of  the  tearful  eyes, 
the  language  of  her  grateful,  appreciative  heart. 

"  Mr.  Harriman,"  I  continued,  resigning  the  fair 
white^and  of  the  bride  to  its  rightful  owner,  "  take 
the  prize  you  have  won.  Cherish  it  in  your  heart  of 
hearts ;  and  let  no  sorrow,  which  your  own  faitiiful  love 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      123 

and  manly  arm  can  crusli  back,  come  near  to  mar  the 
blissful  anticipations  of  her  bridal  morn. 

"Deal  kindly  and  gently  with  the  lone  and  stricken 
dove  which  folds  her  weary  wings  and  nestles  so  trust- 
ingly within  thy  manly  bosom.  The  Lord  do  so  to  thee, 
and  more  also,  if  thou  betrayest  the  sacred  trust  re^- 
posed  in  thee,  or  turn  from  the  pure  heart  you  have 
won,  to  bow  in  guilt  at  another's  shrine." 

He  took  the.  hand  of  his  bride,  and  led  her  to  the 
carriage  which  was  to  convey  her  from  the  friends  who 
had  loved  her  long  and  well. 

EfiSe  waved  me  a  kindly  adieu,  while  the  tears  fell 
from  the  long  drooping  lashes,  mingling  with  the  heavy 
shower-drops  which  gathered  thickly  and  ominously 
around  her. 

I  shuddered,  as  I  thought  of  the  fate  which  might 
await  the  bride  in  her  husband's  home,  and  involun- 
tarily sent  up  a  prayer  to  high  Heaven  in  behalf  of  the 
orphan  upon  whom  the  hand  of  Grod  had  been  so  oft 
and  so  heavily  laid,  that  the  doom  might  pass  on  and 
away  from  that  innocent  and  guileless  one. 

The  sun  peered  through  the  scattering  storm-clouds, 
and  anon  burst  upon  us  with  all  the  effulgence  of  its 
unclouded  splendor. 

The  storm  had  passed  away,  and  not  another  cloud 
was  visible  upon  the  clear  blue  sky  through  that  long 
summer's  day.     And  a  glorious  day  it  was,  with  the 


124  EFFIE    AND    I. 

broad  golden  sunlight,  the  smiling  flowers,  and  fragrant 
buds,  bursting  into  bloom. 

The  clear,  shrill  music  of  the  woodland  songsters 
rang  through  the  deep,  heavy  foliage  of  the  swaying 
branches ;  the  loud  murmuring  of  the  swollen  streams 
and  distant  water-falls  minghng  with  the  joyful  bleating 
■of  the  flocks  and  lowing  of  the  herd  on  the  hills  and 
pasture-land. 

Oh,  such  music :  the  music  of  nature. all  around  me  ; 
the  broad  golden  sunlight  laying  upon  the  green  herb- 
age;  the  smiling  flowers,  the  shower-drenched  earth; 
all  burst  upon  me  like  a  holy  unction  from  the  spirit- 
world. 

And  involuntarily  I  exclaimed,  "  God  grant,  Effie, 
that  such  thy  future  life  may  be.  Unclouded  sunshine 
upon  thy  flower-strewn  path,  music  and  melody  in  thy 
heart,  and  in  thy  home,  and  in  the  world  beyond." 

I  thanked  God  for  the  sunlight,  for  the  clear  blue 
sky,  and  the  sweet  music  which  rang  out  from  the 
forest  bowers ;  and  for  the  gladsome  murmuring  of  the 
waterfalls,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  bursting  flower- 
buds,  which  swept  along  on  the  light-winged  zephyrs 
on  this,  our  EflBe's  bridal  day. 

And  I  tried  to  drive  away  from  my  mind  the  ominous 
forebodings  of  the  morning,  as  the  storm-clouds  had  been 
scattered  by  the  summer  breeze ;  hoping  and  praying 
that  she  had  drank  the  last  drop  from  her  bitter  cup  of 
sorrow. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

CHANGES     IN     NUMBER     TEN. PREPARATIONS     FOR     THE     EASTHAM 

CAMP-MEETING. SISTER  LTTLA'S  DEPARTURE  TO  THE  SPIRIT- 
WORLD. —  VISIT  TO  MY  mother's  GRAVE.  —  EFFIe's  HEART  IS 
BREAKING. 


M 


ANY  CHANGES  were  being  wrought  in 
No.  10  during  the  summer  months.  Some,  like 
Effie,  had  gone  out  with  the  bridal  wreath  circling  their 
fair  young  brows ;  with  the  bright  halo  of  love  illumin- 
ating their  hearts,  and  throwing  a  mellow  radiance  along 
their  future  life-path ;  as  though  no  dark  storm-clouds 
would  ever  arise  to  shatter  their  love-freighted  bark 
out  upon  the  broad  ocean  of  matrimonial  felicity. 

Some,  like  Kate,  had  only  gone  out  into  the  wild- 
woods  and  glens,  among  the  green  fields  and  fresh  wild- 
flowers  and  sparkling  streams  and  broad  sunshine,  to 
sip  the  nectar  from  the  mountain  zephyrs,  and  return 
again,  laden  with  the  aroma  of  a  thousand  flowers,  ere 
the  autumn  winds  should  sound  their  clarion,  loud  and 
shrill,  from  their  mountain  eyry. 

Sister  Sarah  —  free   alike   from  her  persecutor  and 
11* 


126  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

persecutions,  and  happy  as  her  prayers  and  Utile  Revival 
Hymn  Book .  and  class  meetings  and  social  gatherings 
could  make  her  —  was  busily  preparing  for  the  Eastham 
camp-meeting,  where  the  old  ship  of  Zion  was  moored 
with  safety  every  year,  laden  with  faithful  volunteers, 
clad  in  their  bright  and  glittering  armors,  ready  to  con- 
quer or  to  die  in  the  great  opposing  battle  of  sin  and 
the  world. 

And  I  was  preparing  for  an  approaching  event  in 
my  own  life  history,  whether  of  weal  or  of  woe,  of  sun- 
shine or  of  shadows,  the  heart's  prophecy  would  not 
disclose  to  me. 

But  suffice  it,  I  had  given  my  heart's  best  and  purest 
love  to  one  who,  I  doubted  not,  would  cherish  it  in  a 
heart  as  true  and  faithful  as  my  own. 

I  saw  no  ominous  shadows  looming  up  in  the  future 
before  me.  Every  thing  seemed  wrapt  in  a  charm  of 
mystic  beauty  and  enchantment.  My  future  life-path 
seemed  strewn  with  thornless  roses,  with  undimmed  and 
unbroken  sunshine. 

I  felt  that  to  possess  the  love  of  my  husband,  was 
all-sufficient  for  my  future  life-bliss,  whether  I  dwelt  in 
a  forest  cabin  or  a  palace  of  luxurious  wealth. 

"  Rich !  would  not  his  love  be  an  inexhaustible  treas- 
ure to  the  lone  heart  which  had  grown  chill  and  slug- 
gish by  the  sorrowful  bereavements  of  former  years  ? 
And  would  it  not  be  bliss  to  lean  upon  the  strong,  manly 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      127 

arm  of  my  heart's  cliosen,  which  could  and  would  pro- 
tect me  from  every  harm  and  threatening  danger  ? 
And  shielded  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  no  ill  could  betide 
me. 

And  yet,  with  all  these  blissful  anticipations,  I  could 
not  bid  adieu  to  the  pleasant  associations  of  my  factory 
life,  and  go  out  from  the  protecting  roof  of  No.  10  and 
the  kind  matron  who  presided  there,  without  a  tear  of 
regret  and  a  sad  farewell. 

Often,  a  little  missive  of  sisterly  remembrance  had 
reached  me  from  Lula,  but  every  line  traced  therein 
seemed  like  the  plaintive  moanings  of  a  stricken  dove. 
Her  heart  was  with  her  idols ;  and  she  mourned  for 
them  as  the  lone  dove  mourns  for  the  mate  of  its  sum- 
mer bowers. 

I  knew  that  they  were  calling  her  to  their  far-off 
elysium,  and  often,  around  her  lonely  pillow,  floated  the 
soft  spirit-strains : 

"  We  are  coming,  sister  Lula,  we  are  coming  by  and  by ; 
Be  ready,  sister  Lula,  for  the  time  is  drawing  nigh." 

Two  years  I  had  been  a  wife,  when  a  summons  came 
to  me  that  Lula  was  passing  away, — soaring  aloft  to  the 
higher  life.  As  the  fragrance  from  the  crushed  flower 
is  borne  along  by  the  passing  zephyr,  so  «he  was  pass- 
ing, all  gently  and  silently,  to  the  spiritrworld. 

Again  I  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  a  dying  sister. 


128  EFPIE    AND    I  ;     OR, 

Dying?  No!  I  have  never  made  her  dead,  although 
she  breathed  her  last  breath  of  the  mortal  upon  my 
throbbing  bosom. 

Even  now,  I  hear  her  light  form  flitting  by,  and  hear 
the  glad  music  tones  of  her  sisterly  greetings,  and  feel, 
—  yes,  many  times  I  have  felt  her  gentle  touch  upon 
my  shoulder,  when  tears  and  sorrow,  desertion  and 
despair  have  darkly  enveloped  my  life-path,  and  heard 
her  soft  whisperings  of  hope  directing  me  to  a  future 
of  sunshine  and  flowers. 

They  laid  her  beside  her  heart's  idols,  in  the  Uttle 
rural  enclosure  appropriated  to  the  family,  where  the  fir 
and  the  cypress  and  the  summer  flowers  blend  in  lofty 
anthems  of  praise,  such  as  the  angels  hear  and  chant 
together.     Still, — 

"  She  comes  to  me,  and  the  solemn  joy 

Of  her  presence  fills  my  room ; 
Though  far  away,  on  a  sunny  slope. 

Where  I  know  the  violets  bloom, 
Her  grave  is  bright  with  the  spring's  first  gift. 

And  fragrant  with  its  perfume. 

"  She  comes  to  me  when  I  dream  alone. 

In  the  hearth-glow  bright  and  warm. 
And  hear  the  wail  of  the  wintry  winds. 

As  they  strive  with  night  and  storm ; 
She  holds  my  hand,  and  leads  me  on. 

Far  into  the  golden  mom. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      129 

"  Ah  !  well  I  know  that  the  violets  blue 

Are  vailing  her  tender  eyes, 
But  calm  and  deep  in  my  soul  they  smile 

Through  the  blooms  of  Paradise ; 
And  still  I  lean  to  her  gentle  clasp, 

"Where  darkest  my  pathway  lies." 

Once  more  I  sought  the  enclosure  where  our  mother 
was  peacefully  reposing,  and  wept  upon  the  senseless 
turf  the  tears  which  welled  up  from  a  breaking  heart. 
How  fleeting  and  shadow-like  life  appeared  to  me  when 
I  bade  adieu  to  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  and  the 
graves  of  those  loved  ones  for  my  distant  home. 

When  I  arrived  there  I  found  letters  awaiting  my 
return ;  one  from  Effie,  one  from  Kate,  and  some  from 
the  Spindle  City. 

"  Efifie  !  "  How  eagerly  I  grasped  the  little  delicate 
missive  her  own  hand  had  folded  for  her  absent  friend. 
I  had  never  seen  Eflfie  since  her  bridal  mom ;  and  some- 
how, of  late,  her  letters  had  been  few,  and  not  very  con- 
fidential. 

But  I  knew,  from  the  sad  tones  and  expressions  of 
her  few  communications,  that  the  storm  had  gathered 
around  her,  and  was  bursting  relentlessly  upon  her 
defenceless  head. 

Yes,  I  knew,  long  ago,  that  her  heart  was  breaking, 
and  he  in  whom  she  had  trusted  so  confidingly  had 
grown  cold,  perhaps  unfaithful,  or,  indeed,  had  utterly 
deserted  her. 


130  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

I  learned  it  all  from  the  few  letters  whicli  vainly 
made  an  effort  to  represent  a  cheerful,  hopeful  spirit, 
and  a  heart  which  would  safely  repose  in  the  love  of  its 
idol. 

But  here  she  speaks  of  desertion,  utter,  hopeless  de- 
sertion, and  a  heart  breaking  from  the  intensity  of  its 
grief  and  utter  loneliness. 

"  And  oh !  "  she  continued,  "  my  heart  yearns  for  the 
scenes  and  associations  of  my  childhood,  that  my  tor- 
tured and  burning  brain  may  be  soothed  by  the  tears 
shed  over  a  mother's  grave,  and  cheated  into  forgetful- 
ness.  Oh !  that  I  could  forget  the  crushing,  blighting 
sorrows  of  my  later  years. 

"  Thus  it  has  been  with  my  whole  life  ;  with  all  that  I 
loved,  all  that  I  have  hoped  for  or  trusted  in.  A  chilling 
mist,  a  mildew  blight,  the  blackness  and  darkness  of 
despair,  have  shrouded  and  blasted  forever. 

"  And  the  hope  of  solace  in  my  childhood's  home,  is 
perhaps  only  another  disappointment  in  store  for  me. 
Yet  she,  who  now  presides  there,  was  in  my  happier 
days  my  friend  and  confidant.  We  loved  as  sisters 
love.  But  oh!  adversity  and  sorrow  bring  desertion, 
and  she  too  will  be  changed." 

With  a  heart  throbbing  with  painful  emotions,  I  laid 
aside  the  letter  of  that  heart-broken  one,  and  turned  for 
relief  to  that  of  the  light-hearted,  joyous  Kate  Stanton. 

This  informed  me,  that  she  was  taking  a  tour  through 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL. 


131 


some  of  the  British  provinces  and  eastern  Maine,  where 
she  designed  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  an  old  maiden 
aunt  of  her  mother's ;  after  which,  on  her  way  to  the 
Spindle  City,  she  designed  to  visit  me  in  my  home  at 

R ,  when  she  would  give  me  a  verbal  account  of  her 

travels  herself,  and  all  the  wild  freaks  in  which  she  had 
participated  through  her  eastern  tour. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

KATE   STAKTOn's  TISIT. — HEH  TOUR  THROUGH  MAINE. — DESCRIP- 
TION   OF   HEATHERTON   HALL  AND   WILLOW   DALE. 

IT  W A S  a  cold,  stormy  autumn  evening,  that  on 
which  Kate  Stanton  arrived  at  my  dwelling,  and, 
after  the  first  glad  greetings  were  over,  the  tea  things 
removed,  and  the  fire  replenished,  so  that  it  imparted  a 
genial  light  and  heat  to  our  cosy  little  sitting-room, 
Kate  leaned  leisurely  back  in  the  comfortable  arm-chair, 
and  commenced  a  rambling  sketch  of  her  journey  to  the 
East. 

"  You  know,  Rosa,"  she  commenced,  "  that  I  was 
always  fond  of  adventure,  and  also  a  great  lover  of  the 
wild  and  romantic,  the  grand  and  sublime  of  nature. 

"  Well,  for  several  weeks  I  had  been  travelling  and 
feasting  with  delight  upon  the  wild  scenes  which  pre- 
sented themselves  to  my  view,  through  the  wildest 
portions  of  eastern  Maine,  as  also  across  the  boundary 
to  the  dominions  of  the  British  queen. 

"  I  had  made  the  tour  of  many  of  its  romantic  rivers, 
up  to  the   wild   clearings  of  Moosehead   Lake  I  had 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.      133 

looked  far  away  over  its  glassy  surface  to  the  dark  pine- 
clad  highlands,  where  neither  the  axe  or  footsteps  had 
ever  reverberated. 

"  I  had  climbed  over  the  charred  logs  and  smoking 
turf  to  look  within  a  logger's  cabin  or  a  new  settler's 
hut. 

"  I  had  threaded  wild  forest-paths  to  get  a  peep 
within  an  Indian's  wigwam  and  listen  to  the  strains  of  the 
dark-eyed  forest  flower,  while  she  wove  her  baskets  of 
fanciful  colorings  beside  her  Indian  lover. 

"  I  had  sat  me  dreamily  down  beneath  the  forest 
pines,  where  the  Red  men  had  lighted  their  council  fires, 
and  danced  to  the  wild  war-song  of  their  fearless  chief- 
tains. 

"  I  had  rested  me  beside  the  glassy  lake,  where  the 
plumed  warrior  had  twined  the  rich  wampum,  amidst  the 
dark  braids  of  his  forest  princess,  while  she  chanted  to 
him  the  tales  and  legends  of  her  noble  sires. 

"  Spell-bound,  I  had  watched  the  soft  moonbeams 
flittering  coquettishly  over  the  rippling  wave,  broken  here 
and  there  by  the  lazy  motion  of  a  passing  skiff  or  a 
boatman's  oar,  keeping  time  to  the  mellow  strains  of 
'  row,  boatman,  row.' 

"  I  had  climbed  fearful  steeps  to  the  mountain's  brow, 
and  looked  far,  far  down  into  the  deep  abyss  below. 

"  I  had  travelled  over  highlands  and  lowlands,  through 
the  wild  woods  and  clearings,  where  the  deer  bounded 

12 


134  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

lightly  over  the  knarled  and  tangled  wildwood,  and  the 
bowlings  of  the  hungry  wolf  rang  fearfully  out  from  his 
hidden  recess. 

"  I  had  followed  the  various  windings  of  the  far-famed 
Penobscot  and  romantic  St.  Croix,  and  cooled  my  brow 
in  the  clear  waters  of  the  Passamaquoddy  Bay. 

"  I  have  sailed  around  its  pretty  islands,  its  bold  and 
rugged  bluflFs,  and  paid  a  passing  tribute  to  the  venerable 
'  frair,'  who  for  centuries  has  stood  like  a  faithful  senti- 
nel at  his  post,  an  object  of  interest  to  the  artist  and 
tourist. 

"  I  had  looked  far  away  over  the  grand  old  ocean, 
where  the  majestic  steamship  seemed  a  tiny,  floating 
feather  upon  the  white-dashing  foam  of  its  hissing  moun- 
tain waves. 

"  I  had  roamed  over  the  parks  and  pleasure-grounds 
of  English  nobility,  and  knelt  in  thoughtful  mood  beside 
the  marble  urns  of  their  lamented  dead. 

"  I  had  been  a  welcome  guest  within  a  fisher's  hut, 
and  listened  with  delight  to  their  tales  of  wild,  and  peril- 
ous adventures. 

"  I  had  looked  within  the  mouldering  and  rusty  ruins 
of  ancient  magnificence,  and  filled  my  palms  with  me- 
mentos from  demohshed  forts  and  long-deserted  battle- 
grounds. 

"  I  had  visited  crowded  jails  and  the  prison  cells,  alms- 
houses and  asylums,  houses  of  reform,  and  the  resorts 
of  the  fashionable  elite. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   135 

"  I  had  visited  juvenile  schools  and  colleges  for  the 
classical  student. 

"  I  had  been  a  recipient  of  favors  from  the  queen's 
royal  household,  and  disdainfully  spurned  by  cod-fish 
aristocracy.  I  had  received  many  a  heart-felt  '  God 
bless  you,'  and  listened  oft  to  the  muttered  curses  of 
envious  hate. 

"  I  had  feasted  upon  wild  forest  scenes,  unbroken  for 
many  and  many  a  mile,  save  only  by  some  rude  and  wild 
convulsion  of  nature,  and  listened  spell-bound  to  the 
sweet  gushing  melody  which  floated  out  from  its  hidden 
recesses. 

"  And  thus  for  many  weeks  I  had  passed  from  scene 
to  scene,  almost  intoxicated  with  the  wild  beauties  and 
sublimity  alternately  presented  to  my  view,  till,  weary 
and  travel  worn,  I  at  last  reluctantly  turned  my  course 
to  the  tune  of  '  homeward  bound.' 

"  I  had  resolved  to  take  the  shore  towns  on  my  home- 
ward tour,  not  only  for  variety  of  scene,  but  partially,  as 
I  have  told  you,  to  visit  an  old  maiden  aunt  of  my 
mother's,  who,  although  possessing  many  broad  acres  and 
the  antiquated  home  of  her  father's  sire,  was  one  of  the 
kindest  and  most  eccentric  old  dames  in  existence. 

"  I  had  heard  this  from  my  mother,  and  wishing  to 
explore  the  old  casfcle-like  mansion  of  my  venerable 
sires,  whose  magnificence  and  glory  had  long  ago  de- 
parted, I  booked  my  name  at  the  principal  stage-office 


136  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

of  a  provincial  town  for  '  Heatherton  Hall,  Willow 
Dale.' 

"  Mj  heart  bounded  lightly,  and  my  head  too,  dear 
Rosa,  as  I  seated  myself  in  an  old  box-wagon  which 
served  for  a  public  stage-coach,  set  in  motion  by  the  lash 
and  lingo  of  an  uncouth  driver  upon  the  backs  of  t^ro 
fiery  Canadian  grays. 

"  But  it  was  a  fine  summer's  morning.  The  air  was 
fresh  and  balmy ;  the  sun  was  rising  gloriously  from  out 
a  forest  of  pines,  which  nodded  fantastically  here  and 
there,  in  the  light  morning  breeze. 

"  Undisturbed  by  the  few  tu-ed  and  sleepy  occupants 
of  the  old  vehicle,  I  soon  and  wilHngly  yielded  to  the  in- 
spiration which  the  wild  and  changing  scenes  produced. 

"  I  scarcely  heeded  time  or  distance,  so  infatuated 
was  I  with  the  wild  and  picturesque  beauties  which  sur- 
rounded me. 

"  And  not  until  the  long  summer  twilight  had  deep- 
ened into  a  more  sober  hue,  could  I  arouse  myself  from 
the  spell-like  reveries  in  which  I  had  indulged  through 
that  long  summer's  day. 

"  Nearly  the  whole  of  the  afternoon  we  had  travelled 
through  a  wild  unbr(Jken  forest,  with  no  signs  of  life  or 
civilization  save  only  now  and  then  the  ashes,  or  charred 
logs,  where  the  weary  or  benighted  traveller  had  lighted 
a  fire  for  security,  as  he  sought  repose  within  those  forest 
shades,  or  waited  impatiently  for  the  morrow's  dawn  to 
proceed  in  safety  on  his  lonely  journeyings. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      137 

"  This  vast  extent  of  woodland  surpassed  every  thing 
of  a  wild,  picturesque,  novel  beauty,  that  my  most  glow- 
ing imagination  had  ever  conceived. 

"  Here  it  seemed  that  nature  had  played  her  wildest 
freaks,  carelessly  throwing  together  and  combining,  in 
rude  masses,  beauty  and  deformity,  light  and  shade,  life 
and  music,  as  also  the  death-like  silence  of  hushed  deso- 
lation. 

"  Huge  masses  of  rocks  were  piled  one  above  the 
other  hundreds  of  feet,  as  though  rudely  thrown  together 
by  some  mighty  convulsion  of  nature,  and  left  in  a 
threatening  position,  as  if  to  terrify  or  destroy  all  who 
dared  to  venture  within  their  fearful  locality. 

"  On  liJie  other  hand,  the  clear,  smooth  surface  of  an 
inland  lake,  sparkling  in  the  sunbeams,  glimmered  through 
the  overarching  branches,  as  the  light  breeze  lifted  the 
deep  heavy  foUage  from  their  forest  bowers. 

"  Then,  all  so  suddenly,  the  dashing,  foaming  waters 
of  a  mountain  torrent  came  leaping  and  bounding  along, 
as  if,  in  its  rude  sport,  it  would  sweep  us  on  and  away 
into  the  deep  stream  below. 

"  Oh !  it  was  wild,  majestic,  and  grand !  that  forest 
scene. 

"  There  the  nimble  deer  sported  fearlessly  the  live- 
long day.  The  wolf  and  bear  roamed  at  large,  or  rested 
securely  in  their  wild  retreat." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

KATE  Stanton's  unexpected  meetino  with  effie  lee. — 

THET    JOURNEY    TOGETHER. 

"  rry  WILIGHT,  as  I  said,  was  giving  place  to 
J-  the  more  sober  hues  of  evening,  ere  we  left  the 
forest  road,  and  sought  repose  within  a  wayside  inn, 
erected  upon  the  rude  clearings  of  an  eastern  wilderness. 
This  was  situated  at  the  junction  of  stage-roads,  and 
other  travellers  were  there  before  us.  Among  them  was 
a  pale,  sad-looking  woman,  soothingly  endeavoring  to 
hush  the  weary  meanings  of  a  sickly  child. 

"  With  an  impulse  of  sympathy  I  could  not  resist,  my 
heart  went  out  to  her,  and,  taking  a  seat  by  her  side, 
with  a  word  of  kindly  greeting,  she  immediately  turned 
her  tear-drenched  face  full  upon  me ;  but  her  words  of 
sad  response  instantly  gave  place  to  the  joyful  acclamar 
tions  of  recognition.  '  Kate  ! '  '  Effie  ! '  Her  head,  for 
it  was  indeed  Effie,  fell  convulsively  upon  my  throbbing 
bosom,  and  she  wept  long  and  bitterly. 

"  I  knew  that  those  tears  were  a  hear<>-balm ;  and  so 
I  gently  took  her  child  from  heiv  trembling  arms,  and 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   139 

beguiled  it  with  childish  tales  into  a  sweet  and  soothing 
repose. 

"  I  knew  by  the  deep  and  settled  expression  of  an- 
guish upon  Effie's  brow,  and  the  ready  tears  which  came 
alternately  to  the  trembling  lashes,  that  the  deep  foun- 
tain of  her  heart  had  been  rudely  and  painfully  stirred. 
And  the  deep  sobs  and  sighs  of  anguish  which  sounded 
in  my  ears  at  intervals,  through  the  entire  night,  only 
served  to  conj&rm  the  painful  conviction. 

"  But  not  for  once  did  I  dream  how  desolate  and  lone 
she  had  -become,  nor  how  deep  the  flood,  and  scathing  the 
fire  of  affliction  through  which  she  had  so  recently  passed. 

"  I  was  gratified  to  learn  that  her  course  lay  in  the 
same  direction  of  my  own,  and  was  pleased,  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  although  she  looked  paler  and  sadder, 
to  see  her  take  the  unoccupied  seat  by  my, side  in  that 
rude  old  coach. 

"  I  tried,  as  best  I  could,  to  divert  her  mind  from  its 
crushing  sorrows,  and  bring  back  once  more  the  smiles 
and  sunshine  to  her  still  handsome  face. 

"  She  spoke  little  of  her  past  sorrows,  only  that,  after 
a  long  and  painful  absence,  she  was  returning  to  Glen 
cottage  in  B ,  the  place  of  her  nativity. 

"  '  B ?  '  I  inquired.     '  Is  not  Willow  Dale   and 

Heatherton  Hall  in  that  vicinity  ?  ' 

'• '  Oh,  yes  ! '  she  answered.  '  I  know  their  locality 
well.     Many  times,  in  my  childish  days,  I  visited  the  old 


140  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

hall,  and  played  "  hide  and  go  seek  "  in  its  parks  and 
pleasure-grounds.' 

"  '  Then,'  I  answered, '  this  is  a  double  pleasure  ;  and 
how  strange,  indeed,  that  we  have  never  spoken  to  each 
other  in  our  former  acquaintance  of  Heatherton  Hall,  for 
I  am  designing  to  visit  it,  and  perhaps  spend  a  few  weeks 
with  my  lone  old  aunt,  if  I  find  her  not  too  eccentric  to 
claim  relationship  with  such  a  wild  specimen  of  humanity. 

"  '  My  heart  yearns  to  revel  in  those  old  halls,  bereft 
of  their  former  magnificence.  To  pore  over  the  musty 
parchments  penned  by  my  venerable  ancestors  in  the 
days  of  "  long  ago."  To  dream  away  the  long  summer 
days  within  the  shades  of  its  grand  old  park,  and  listen, 
in  the  mellow  moonlight,  to  the  legends  and  love  adven- 
tures of  that  lone  old  aunt  in  the  days  of  her  beauty 
and  bloom. '^ 

"  A  faint  smile  passed  over  the  pale,  sad  features  of  my 
companion,  while  she  answered : 

"  '  You  will  find  your  lone  old  aunt,  as  you  are  pleased 
to  designate  her,  any  thing  but  an  imbecile,  love-stricken 
dame,  mourning  over  the  disappointments  of  blighted  or 
faithless  love  in  the  days  of  her  youth. 

"  '  She  is  one  of  nature's  specimens  of  nobihty ;  for  she 
needs  no  airs  or  embellishments  to  perfect  her  genuine 
worth.  There  are  few  so  pure,  so  good,  and  spiritually 
inclined,  as  to  comprehend  her;  and  therefore  she  is 
called  eccentric' 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL        141 

"  I  was  pleased  with  the  praise,  which  I  knew  was  no 
flattery,  paid  to  my  worthy  relative  ;  and  by  every  act 
of  kindness,  both  to  Effie  and  her  child,  I  strove  to  con- 
vince her  how  much  I  appreciated  it. 

"  Thus  each  day  of  our  journey  and  companionship  had 
passed  in  pleasant  and  friendly  intercourse,  till  at  last,  as 
the  shades  of  evening  were  closing  around  us  on  the  third 
day,  we  drew  near  to  the  place  of  our  destination. 

"  My  own  heart,  bounding  with  hopeful  expectancy,  hers 
growing  sadder  from  the  dark  forebodings  and  fearful 
apprehensions  which  closed  around  her,  like  the  impene- 
trable misty  fog  from  the  adjacent  bay. 

"I  had  indulged  in  a  pleasant  reverie,  but  aroused 
myself  as  we  merged  from  the  forest-road  into  the  broad, 
open  space  of  cultivated  mainland. 

"  Lights  were  glimmering  through  the  misty  fog  in  the 
dim  distance,  and  while  my  companion  was  wiping  away 
the  blinding  tears  from  her  eyes,  attracted  by  my  glad- 
some exclamations,  the  driver  reined  in  the  panting 
horses  with  a  prolonged  '  w-h-o-a,'  in  front  of  a  mas- 
sive gate  and  a  venerable  looking  mansion,  which  appeared 
to  me  like  some  long-preserved  relic  of  antiquity,  so 
singular  was  it  in  appearance  and  construction. 

"  '  Oh,  yes  ! '  said  Effie,  grasping  my  hand  frantically, 
'here  we  are,  at  dear  Heath  Hall,  and  Glen  Cottage 
is  only  a  few  miles  beyond.  It  is  with  heart-felt  regret 
that  I  must  leave  you,  Kate.     But  may  I  indulge  in  the 


142  EFFIE    AND    I. 

hope  that  we  shall  meet  again  while  you  remain  at  the 
hall?' 

" '  Indeed  you  may,  Effie  dear,'  I  answered,  en- 
couragingly ;  '  and  many,  many  times  I  hope  we  shall 
meet  again,  when  these  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  have  all 
disappeared,  and  the  sunlight  of  happiness  and  prosperity 
rests  smilingly  upon  your  life-path.' 

"  Her  burning  lips  trembled  for  a  moment  upon  my 
hand,  while  they  murmured  a  low  '  God  bless  you, 
Kate,'  and  a  sad  '  good-night.'  " 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

Kate's    abrival  at    the   old   hall.  —  the  coachman  thinks 
she   is  from  the  southward,  and  mistakes  her  baggage 

FOR   LOG    CABINS. — AUNT    HEATHEKTOn's     CORDIAL    GREETING. 

rate's     fears     AND     PLEASANT     SURPRISE.  HER    MOTHER'S 

BRIDAL    CHAMBER. THE    FAMILY    PORTRAITS. 

"'npHIS    IS  Heath  Hall,  marm,'  said  the  driver, 
JL    throwing  open  the  stage  door   with  a  most  ob- 
sequious air  and  profound  bow,  at  the  same  time  offering 
his  hand  to  assist  me  in  alighting. 

"  He  conducted  me  through  the  ponderous  gate  up  a 
broad  avenue,  thicklj  shaded  on  either  side  by  the  droop-  ■ 
ing  and  swaying  branches  of  the  graceful  willow,  to  the 
low  porch,  where  the  sweetbrier  and  roses  mingled  with 
the  climbing  woodbine. 

" '  And  this,'  I  whispered,  half  audibly,  '  is  Heath- 
erton  Hall ; '  for  I  scarcely  knew  whether,  in  one  of  my 
wild,  dreamy  reveries,  I  was  wandering  in  fairy-land,  or 
whether  indeed  I  had  arrived  at  Willow  Dale. 

"  '  Yes,  marm,'  answered  the  driver,  at  the  same  time 
giving  the  ponderous  knocker  a  clang  which  might  have 
aroused  the  inhabitants  of   "  Sleepy  HoUow,"  '  and  it 


144  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

is  the  best  farm  in  all  the  eastern  country.  Why,  a  man 
and  a  boy  could  make  a  fortin  here  in  less  than  no  time. 
Dick  Joslin,  the  chore-boy,  says  that  the  old  lady  lays  up 
heaps  of  money  every  year,  and  not  a  child  nor  a  chick 
•to  fight  for  it,  before  she  is  fairly  under  the  sod. 

"  '  But  one  thing  I  know,  that  nobody  ever  goes  away 
from  Heath  Hall  hungry  and  cold ;  and  you  will  know  it 
too,  marm,  if  you  make  much  of  a  tarry  at  Willow  Dale. 

"  '  Here,  Dick,'  he  continued,  as  a  little  dumpy  form 
came  blustering  through  the  long  hall,  or  outer  entrance, 
holding  cautiously  before  him  a  lighted  lantern. 

"  '  Here,  Dick,  is  a  woman  come  to  stop  with  you  a 
spell,  I  reckon.  And  I  should  think  that  she  was  from 
the  southard,  by  the  little  log  cabins  she  takes  her  lug- 
gage in.  The  deuce  take  me,  if  I  ever  carried  the  like 
before. 

.  "  '  Come,  Dick,  lend  us  a  good  stout  hand,  and  we  will 
soon  have  it  stored  away  in  this  old  castle ;  and  the  woman 
too,  I  reckon,  for  she  has  journeyed  a  heap  of  a  ways,  and 
will  be  right  glad  to  find  such  a  resting-place  as  Heath 
Hall  and  Willow  Dale.' 

"  I  thanked  the  driver  for  his  kind  solicitations,  and 
placing  within  his  hand  an  extra  quarter  as  a  com- 
pensation for  the  transportation  of  my  log  cabins,  which, 
he  declared,  '  was  quite  unnecessary,  as  I  was  entirely 
welcome.'  I  informed  him  that,  although  I  had  travelled 
in  the  southern  States,  I  was  neither  a  native  or  resident 
of  the  South. 


SEVEN  TEAKS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   145 

"  '  Oh  !  I  beg  jovir  pardon,  marm,  if  I  have  offended 
you  ;  I  meant  no  insult,  only  the  log  cabins,  marm, 
looked  a  leetle  suspicious.' 

"  '  This  way,  Miss,'  said  Dick,  throwing  open  an  inner 
door,  which  led  to  a  well-lighted  and  comfortable-looking 
apartment. 

"  '  This  way  a  moment,  if  you  please.  Miss,  while  I  assist 
the  coachman  in  removing  your  baggage,  and  then  I  will 
conduct  you  to  the  mistress  of  the  mansion  and  more 
commodious  entertainment.' 

"  I  entered  the  room  designated,  which,  on  closer  ob- 
servation, proved  not  a  private  apartment,  but  a  large 
hall,  opening  from  the  front,  or  main  entrance  of  the 
spacious  building. 

"  It  was  hung  with  pictures  of  old  and  rare  beauty,  and 
ancient-looking  portraits  which  I  knew  must  be  the  rep- 
resentations of  my  own  relatives,  whose  blood  was  even 
then  dancing  lightly  with  the  wild  throbbings  of  my  heart 
and  brain. 

"  There  was  the  painted  armor  of  their  own  brave  war- 
riors ;  the  coat  of  arms  and  heraldry,  denoting  their 
nobility  and  high  station  in  the  land  of  their  ancestors. 

"  The  lion  was  still  erect  in  his  proud  strength  and 
glory.  The  arm  and  battle-axe  raised  dauntlessly  and 
defiantly  high,  as  if  to  crush,  with  one  fell  swoop,  all  who 
dared  to  oppose  their  just  and  honorable  rights; 

"  The  eagle  soared  far  up  toward  th©-  mid-day  sun, 

13 


146  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

gracefully  poising  the  green  laurel  and  the  quivering 
arrows,  with  neck  proudly  curved,  looking  down  from  his 
lofty  eyry. 

"  Pride  was  beginning  to  blow  its  empty  bubbles  amidst 
the  wild  throbbings  of  my  heart ;  and  my  brain,  oh, 
that  seemed  inflated  almost  to  bursting  with  the  light, 
gassy  vanity  which  had  pressed  in  through  its  unguarded 
port-holes,  as  I  looked,  half  bewildered,  upon  the  honor- 
able heraldry  of  my  noble  ancestors.  And  I  ejaculated, 
half  unconsciously,  '  I  am  a  regular  and  legitimate  de- 
scendant from  that  ancient  house.' 

"  Fears  came  next,  with  torturing  suspense.  '  For 
how,'  I  thought,  '  shall  I  be  able  to  meet  the  majestic 
woman  who  presides  here,  a  living  representative  of  their 
former  magnificence  ?  * 

"  Light  footsteps  and  the  soft  rustling  of  sumnier  gar- 
ments aroused  me. 

"  I  turned  quickly,  half  in  awe,  half  in  surprise,  which 
soon  gave  place  to  admiration  and  pleasure. 

"  For  instead  of  a  proud,  majestic  woman,  whom  no  one 
would  dare  to  approach,  was  a  little,  plain,  unassuming 
figure,  with  one  of  the  sweetest  faces  and  the  mildest  blue 
eyes  which  I  have  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  beholdmg. 

"  Her  hair  was  combed  neatly  back  from  a  broad,  in- 
tellectual brow,  half  shaded  by  a  trim  little  cap  of  the 
most  delicate  texture,  while  a  kerchief  of  the  same  ma- 
terial, white  ask  the  spotless  snow-flake,  was  laid  in  careful 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      147 

folds  over  a  well-formed  bust,  giving  a  pleasing  contrast 
to  the  dress  of  brown  silk  which  fell  gracefully  around 
her  neat  and  petite  form. 

"  She  approached  me  with  her  small  white  hand  cor- 
dially extended,  and  a  smile  of  welcome,  which  radiated 
every  feature,  saying,  as  she  did  so,  '  I  was  not  aware 
of  the  arrival  of  visitors,  or  they  should  not  have  been 
so  unceremoniously  received  at  Heatherton  Hall.  I 
hope,  my  dear,'  she  continued,  taking  my  hand  affec- 
tionately within  her  own,  '  that  you  will  allow  me  to 
make  amends  for  any  seeming  neglect  of  duty  on  the 
part  of  my  attendants.' 

"  '  No  neglect  is  attributed  to  them,  my  dear  madam,' 
I  answered,  '  for  having,  by  stage,  just  a  moment  since 
arrived  at  the  hall,  your  servant  led  me  to  this  apart^ 
ment,  while  he  assisted  the  coachman,  who  is  impatient 
of  delay,  in  removing  my  baggage. 

"  '  And  I  can  assure  you  I  have  been  very  agreeably 
and  pleasantly  entertained,'  I  continued,  casting  my 
eyes  significantly  upon  the  portraits  which  gave  a  life- 
like appearance  to  that  spacious  apartment. 

"  '  And  you,'  she  said,  scanning  my  features  with  an 
expression  of  deep  and  earnest  interest,  '  you  are  a 
Heatherton.  I  ought  to  have  known  as  much  from  the 
first  glance.' 

"  '  My  mother  was  a  Heatherton  ;  and  although  I  feel 


148  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

the  blood  of  my  proud  ancestors  dancing  through  mj 
veins,  yet  I  claim  not  the  honor  of  their  ancient  name.' 

"  '  And  yet  you  are  a  Heatherton,'  she  repUed,  lead- 
ing me  close  to  a  portrait  which  before  I  had  but  dimly 
•observed. 

"  '  Look  upon  that,'  she  continued,  '  and  then  tell  me 
you  are  not  a  Heatherton. 

"  '  You  do  not  know  him,  for  he  died  before  your  birth, 
and  before  your  mother,  with  her  young  family,  moved 
far  away  from  Willow  Dale. 

"  '  She  has  never  returned  to  us  since.  But  you  are 
her  second  self,  and  the  exact  counterpart  in  features 
and  expression  of  the  life-like  portrait  before  you.  He 
was  my  brother  and  your  mother's  father.' 

"  I  stood  transfixed  and  spell-bound  to  the  spot ;  for  a 
feeling  of  awe  came  over  me,  as  I  looked  for  the  first 
time  upon  the  likeness  of  one  whom  my  mother  had 
loved  and  revered  so  much,  my  grandfather,  who  long 
ago  had  passed  triumphantly  to  the  spirit-world. 

"'Yes,'  she  continued,  half  musingly,  'he  was  the 
father  of  our  dear  little  Kate,  our  household  pet,  as  we 
used  to  call  her.  Oh !  how  gleefully  her  bird-like  voice 
rang  through  these  spacious  apartments!  How  sylph- 
like seemed  her  form,  chasing  the  shadows  and  the  sun- 
shine beneath  the  ancient  elms.  How  radiant  her  face 
with  beauty,  innocence,  and  love  ! 


SEVEN    YEAKS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      149 

" '  But  her  father  died,  or  rather  passed  to  a  higher 
and  purer  life  ;  and  she,  oh,  she  left  us  too ;  and  since 
then  a  hushed  desolation  has  pervaded  both  hall  and 
bower. 

"  '  Come  with  me  to  her  bridal  chamber,  her  dressing- 
room,  her  laboratory,  her  music-room,  and  to-morrow 
I  will  lead  you  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  trees  her  own 
hands  planted.  I  will  show  you  her  favorite  walks,  by 
the  Hawthorn  Hedge,  and  up  the  steep  cliffs,  her  mossy 
nooks,  her  sunny  dells,  and  —  and 

"  Here  the  voices  of  Dick  and  the  coachman,  shuffling 
through  the  outer  hall  with  the  suspicious  log  cabins, 
broke  in  upon  her  enthusiasm,  and,  winding  an  arm 
affectionately  around  my  waist,  she  continued,  '  or 
rather,  let  me  lead  you  to  a  place  of  refreshment  and 
repose. 

"'I  had  forgotten,  in  the  surprise  and  pleasure  of 
meeting  one  of  my  own  kindred,  that  yoij  were  a  weary 
traveller,  and  would  be  more  agreeably  entertained  with 
a  good  supper  and  an  easy-chair  than  you  would  by 
climbing  steep  cliffs,  or  threading  hawthorn  hedges  and 
mossy  dells. 

"  '  You  will  remain  long  with  us,  I  hope,  and  will  have 
ample  time  to  make  yourself  familiar  with  all  the  scenes 
your  mother,  in  her  happy  girlhood,  loved  so  well.'  " 

13* 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

KATE  IN  THE  ANCESTRAL  CHAIR.  —  HER  VISION.  —  IS  TAKEN  FOR 
A  RAPPING  MEDIUM.  HER  AUNT'S  HORROR  OF  SPIRITUAL- 
ISTS.—  Kate's  fun-loving  spirit  aroused. 

"  PI  H  E  LED  me  into  a  large,  airj  reception-room, 
KJ  furnished  in  a  style  of  antique  beauty,  and,  after 
removing  my  travelling  apparel,  seated  me  in  a  spacious 
arm-chair,  not  of  modern  structure,  but  which,  I  im- 
agined, might  have  taken  passage  in  the  memorable 
'  May  Flower,'  or,  further  back,  might  have  graced 
the  drawing-room  of  some  ducal  palace  in  merry  Eng- 
land or  bonny  Scotia. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  remained  half  buried  in  the  soft 
crimson  cushion,  while  my  good  aunt  excused  herself  to 
order  tea  and  refreshments,  with  my  thoughts  jQ^itting 
far,  far  back  through  the  shadowy  vistas  of  olden  times, 
when  my  grandfather's  sire,  with  the  firm,  proud  step 
of  early  manhood,  strode  through  those  halls,  with  a 
sweet,  beautiful  bride  leaning  trustingly  upon  his  manly 
arm,  listening,  hg,lf  entranced  with  the  bright. halo  of 
love  which  encircled  her,  to  the  endearing  words  which 
fell  like  costly  pearls  from  his  truthful  lips. 


SEVEN    YEAKS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      151 

"  And  then  scene  after  scene  presented  itself  to  my 
view  as  the  years  sped  on,  and  the  proud  man's  step 
became  enfeebled  by  age,  and  the  fair  young  bride, 
changed  to  a  dignified  matron,  are  quietly  passing 
adown  life's  shady  side ;  while  others,  in  the  full  noon- 
day of  youth,  are  twining  their  brows  with  the  laurels 
and  honors  laid  aside  by  their  predecessors. 

"  And  then  again  the  bright  scene  changes  ;  and  youth 
and  beauty  pass  away  into  the  twilight  of  years. 

"  The  song  and  gleeful  laugh  of  happy  childhood  awake 
no  longer  an  answering  echo  through  the  long  corridors 
and  high-arched  walls  of  that  ancient  home. 

"  The  laurels  are  laid  aside,  or  gathered  up  as  sacred 
mementos  of  other  days.  A  pall-like  darkness  gathers 
around  the  scene  a  hushed  desolation,  and 

" '  Oh,  how  weary  you  are,'  said  the  soft  voice  of  my 
aunt,  bending  over  me  with  a  look  of  the  deepest  anxi- 
ety depicted  upon  her  mild  face. 

"  '  You  have  been  dreaming  too,  and  it  was  with  quite 
an  ejffort  that  I  awoke  you  sufficiently  to  tell  you  that 
my  tea  is  ready,  which  announcement,  I  think,  you  will 
not  regret  to  hear.' 

"  '  Dreaming  ?  Why,  my  dear  aunt,  I  have  not  been 
asleep  since  you  left  me  to  rest  in  this  luxuriant  arm- 
chair ;  only  indulging  in  one  of  the  trance-like  reveries 
which  steal  over  me  now  and  then,  like  spirit-inspiration.' 

"  '  Why,  child,'  said  my  aunt,  while    her  mild  blue 


152  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

eyes  opened  wide  upon  me,  with  an  expression  of  doubt- 
ful perplexity  spreading  all  over  her  still  handsome  face, 
'  you  are  not  one  of  those  awful  spiritualists,  are  you, 
who  set  the  tables  to  talking,  and  the  chairs  to  dancing 
Yankee  reels  all  over  a  respectable  body's  house  ;  setting 
our  arms  akimbo,  and  making  us  commit  all  manner  of 
improprieties  ;  exposing  even  our  very  thoughts  to  the 
wide  glare  of  an  uncharitable  world  ?  I  have  heard  of 
them,  but  I  never  thought  that  I  should  be  tor — tormen 

,  I  never  thought  one  would  find  its  way  into  Heath 

Hall. 

"  '  They  say  if  they  once  get  into  a  house,  that  it  is 
hard  to  get  them  out  again ;  because ' 

"  Here  my  mirthfulness  could  endure  no  more,  and  it 
broke  out  into  a  loud,  ringing,  prolonged  laugh,  which 
woke  once  again  the  slumbering  echoes  of  old  Heath 
Hall. 

"  '  0  you  rogue  ! '  she  said,  twining  her  arms  affec- 
tionately around  my  waist.  '  I  know  now  that  you  are 
not  one  of  them,  or  you  could  not  laugh  like  that.  And 
so  much  like  hers,  like  Kate's. 

" '  Oh,  yes  ;  your  laugh,  your  face,  yourself,  will 
bring  her  back  again  as  erst  to  me,  and  we  shall  live 
over  the  happy  scenes  of  other  days.' 

"  '  But  my  dear  aunt,'  I  replied,  while  another  laugh 
of  mirthfulness  convulsed  my  whole  frame,  and  reverber- 
ated once  again  through  those  spacious  apartments,  '  I 
am  indeed  a  believer  in  spirits. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   153 

"  '  I  believe  in  spirit-inspiration,  in  guardian  spirits,  in 
ministering  spirits,  in  holy  spirits,  in  evil  spirits,  and  in 
intoxicating  spirits  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  because  I 
believe  there  are  such  things,  that  I  am  an  advocate  for 
them  all,  or  have  brought  them  as  unwelcome  guests  to 
Heatherton  Hall,  to  tor — torm 

"  A  small  hand  was  pressed  lovingly  to  my  lips  ;  and 
a  laugh,  such  perhaps  as  had  not  agitated  her  bosom  for 
years,  broke  through  the  parted  lips  of  my  demure  little 
aunt. 

" '  Oh,  you  are  a  little  witch  !  and  have  brought  a 
happy  spirit  and  the  spirit  of  mirthfulness  to  your  lone 
aunt  and  her  desolate  home  ;  and  long  may  it  be  before 
an  evil  spirit  tempts  me  to  eject  them  from  old  Heath 
Hall. 

"  '  It  was  a  good  spirit  that  sent  you  here,  I  know,' 
she  continued,  as  we  seated  ourselves  at  her  daintily 
spread  table. 

" '  And  so  I  think  we  shall  not  quarrel  about  spirits, 
nor  be  troubled  with  table-talking,  or  chair-dancing, 
only  when  your  spirit  of  mirthfulness  and  mischief  pre- 
dominates.' 

"  '  Which  perhaps  you  will  find  too  often  for  the  staid 
customs  and  habits  of  Willow  Dale,'  I  replied,  casting 
a  sidelong  glance  over  the  knob  of  the  silver  tea-urn, 
from  which  she  was  pouring  the  delicious  beverage. 

"  '  Not  at  all,'  she  answered.     '  Be  yourself,  mischief, 


154  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

mirthfulness,  and  all;  and  though  it  may  sometimes 
break  in  upon  the  staid  old  habits  —  and  I  can  assure 
you  they  are  nothing  but  habits,-^ — habits  acquired  by 
lonehness  and  desolation  ;  yet  they  will  be  to  us  like  the 
breaking  of  sunshine  through  the  dark  storm-cloud  ;  or  a 
refreshing  shower-bath  upon  the  parched  and  withered 
flowers  of  summer's  noontide.' 

" '  I  thank  you,  my  good  aunt,  for  the  wide  and 
pleasant  scope  you  are  pleased  to  allow  me  ;  for  my  wild, 
turbulent  spirit  never  could  endure  the  curb-string. 

"  '  And,  furthermore,  I  am  a  firm  believer  in  the  spirit 
of  mirthfulness,  and  so  far  secede  from  the  old  faith  as 
to  believe  that  mirthfulness  maketh  the  heart  better, 
instead  of  sadness.' 

"Again  she  opened  her  eyes  wide  upon  me,  while, 
with  an  expression  of  perplexity,  she  answered  : 

"  '  Oh,  we  must  believe  the  Bible,  child,  every  word  of 
it  ;  and  that  says  that  sadness  maketh  the  heart  better, 
and  that  it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than 
to  the  house  of  feasting  or  mirth. 

"  '  But,  nevertheless,  I  believe  that  mirthfulness  is,  to 
the  heart,  like  the  bright  sunshine  drifting  in  playful 
ripples  over  the  dark  ocean.  And  sadness,  like  the 
pearls  that  lay  untarnished  and  pure  among  the  rough 
sands'  and  seaweed  at  its  base.' 

" '  No ;  rather  say  that  sadness  is  like  the  dark, 
tangled  seaweed,  inclosing  in  its  dank,  slimy  meshes, 
the  pearls  and  gems  that  the  ocean  tide  would  otherwise 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.       155 

bring  out  in  bright  glittering  masses  to  the  wooing  sun- 
beams. 

"  '  Sadness  throws  a  pall-like  gloom  over  every  thing. 
Even  the  bright  sunshine  and  summer  flowers  seem 
shrouded  in  its  misty  twilight. 

"  '  Nature's  sweet  songs,  from  woodland  and  dell,  grate 
harshly  upon  the  senses,  like  mournful  dirges  from  the 
tombs  of  the  dead. 

" '  The  soft  summer  zephyrs  which  float  around  me, 
like  the  low  whisperings  of  spirit-voices,  bring  ominous 
forebodings  to  the  saddened  heart. 

" '  No,  aunt ;  God  never  designed  us  to  shroud  our- 
selves in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ;  to  sit  down  irresistingly 
beneath  the  black  pall  of  sadness,  religiously  believing  it 
was  making  our  hearts  better,  our  lives  purer,  and  the 
future  more  perfect,  in  blissful  and  holy  immortality. 
That  God,  who  clothes  himself  with  such  a  halo  of  bright 
glory  that  our  mortal  vision  cannot  look  upon  it,  and  to 
which  the  sun's  rays  become  like  a  dark  floating  cloud.' 

" '  0  aunt,'  I  continued,  '  Why  did  He  give  us 
this  beautiful  world  ?  These  flowers,  these  trees,  these 
woodland  songsters  ?  The  bright  luminaries  which 
know  their  places,  and  move  in  a  gorgeous  galaxy  of 
splendor  through  the  broad  and  high-arched  canopy 
above  us  ?  And  why  did  He  give  us  souls  and  aspira- 
tions above  the  beasts  of  the  field,  if  He  designed 
us  to  be  made  better  by  lives  of  sadness  and  gloom. 

" '  I  do  not  believe  that  a  sad  heart  ever  found  its 


156  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

waj  through  the  golden  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  or 
tuned  its  lyre  before  the  sapphire  throne,  in  praise  to 
the  great  Immaculate  who  sits  thereon,  clothed  in  the 
brightness  of  beatific  holiness.' 

" '  Well,  there,'  said  my  aunt,  interrupting  me, 
'  you  are  a  combination  of  mystery.  One  moment  a 
gay,  volatile. creature  ;  the  next  soaring  far  away  into 
the  sublimity  of  the  spirit-world. 

"  '  Yes,  I  like  that  volatility  and  good  sense  combined. 
So,  be  assured,  we  shall  be  the  very  best  friends  imagi- 
nable while  you  remain  at  Willow  Dale. 

" '  And  now,  my  dear,  tell  me  all  about  your  mother, 
your  home,  and  every  thing  of  interest  connected  with 
it.  For  it  is  many  a  year  ago  that  she  left  this  old  hall 
to  the  loneliness  and  desolation  which  you  now  find  it.' 

" '  Oh !  it  is  just  the  place  of  all  the  world,  aunt,'  I 
said,  '  where  I  could  dream  away  a  life-time  in  bright, 
fanciful  reveries,  weaving  the  most  beautiful  fabrics  of 
romance  from  the  woof  of  real  life  ;  combining  hght  and 
shade,  beauty  and  ugliness,  virtue  and  vice,  wealth  and 
want,  honor  and  degradation,  life  and  death,  the  music 
of  mirth,  and  the  wailing  of  despair. 

"  '  Oh,  how  many  bright  reveries  would  flit  around  me, 
till  Heatherton  Hall  would  become  an  enchanted  castle, 
and  Willow  Dale  the  resort  of  fairy  revellers. 

"  '  Dear  aunt,  I  fear  that  you  will  have  to  awake  me 
from  many  a  day-dream  while  I  remain  at  Willow  Dale 
your  happy  guest.' 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN     A     COTTON    MILL.      157 

"  '  That  I  will  do  with  pleasure/  said  my  aunt,  laugh- 
ingly, '  only  be  careful  and  keep  away  from  the 
trance-influence.  Because,  you  know,  that  I  have  a 
great  horror  of  these  spirit-revellers  playing  their  wild 
freaks  in  my  staid  old  home.' 

"  '  I  will  take  good  care  that  they  commit  no  serious 
depredations  upon  any  thing  connected  with  Heath  Hall. 

"  '  And  now,  my  good  aunt,'  I  continued,  as  I  arose 
from  the  table,  and  once  more  seated  myself  in  the  luxu- 
rious arm-chair,  '  I  will  spend  the  remainder  of  the 
evening  in  narrations  of  my  mother  and  my  home,. as  far 
back  as  the  gladsome  days  of  my  own  early  childhood. 
Previous  to  that  I  have  no  distinct  recollection.' 

" '  Never  mind  the  previous,'  said  my  aunt,  laugh- 
ingly, '  that  relation  belongs  to  myself;  and  to-morrow, 
as  I  show  you  the  objects  of  interest  connected  with 
Heatherton  Hall  and  Willow  Dale,  I  will  give  you  a  re- 
cital of  all  which  occurred  previous  to  your  mother's 
departure  from  our  dear  old  home.'  " 

14 


CHAPTER    XXIV  . 

Kate's  wild  freaks.  —  her    aunt's    history   of    the  lees. — 

HER    prediction    VERIFIED.  PLANNING    A    VISIT    TO    EFFIE. 

«  T  HAD  spent  nearly  a  whole  week  at  the  hall  in  a 
X  wild,  restless,  dreamy  state,  scarcely  giving  a  mo- 
ment's thought  to  aught  else  than  the  objects  of  interest 
which  everywhere  presented  themselves  in  that  ancient 
home. 

"  I  had  plunged  into  every  nook  and  comer ;  over- 
turning, in  my  reckless  love  of  adventure,  the  contents  of 
old  closets,  explored  dark  attics,  and  poured  over  musty 
old  volumes,  manuscripts,  and  parchments ;  sketched 
upon  canvas  the  outlines  of  the  old  mansion,  and  its 
surroundings ;  frightened  away  the  owls  and  bats  from 
the  decaying  turrets  ;  threaded  all  the  sheep-tracks  and 
avenues  in  Willow  Dale  ;  tired  out  the  favorite  donkey, , 
in  my  wild  flights  over  the  adjacent  hills  and  forest  roads  ; 
swamped  Dick's  best  canoe  in  a  fruitless  duck-chase 
over  the  little  lake  ;  sent  all  the  poultry,  screeching  and 
cackling,  from  the  barn-yard ;  laughed  myself  into  con^ 
vulsions  every  time  I  made  an  attempt  with  a  milking 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   159 

Stool,  to  see  the  cows  run  bellowing  and  kicking,  with 
tails  poised  high  in  the  air,  upsetting,  in  their  wild  fright, 
milk-maids  and  milk-pails,  in  an  attempt  to  scale  the  five- 
rail  fence,  breaking  the  chain  of  the  recreant  wether,  and 
sending  him,  in  a  choking  condition,  over  a  tottering  stone- 
wall ;  treating  the  pigs  now  and  then  with  a  delicious 
morsel  from  mj  aunt's  best  cream-can,  or  letting  them 
out  into  the  rich  pea-patch,  just  for  a  little  exercise  and 
airing ;  and  then,  as  demure  as  an  Irish  servant-girl  with 
her  swate-heart  behind  the  door,  I  would  seek  the  mis- 
thress  herself,  with  ample  acknowledgments  for  the 
mischief  I  had  done,  and  a  thousand  lip-promises  to  keep 
the  future  peace,  if  onlj  then  she  would  grant  me  the 
pardoning  kiss. 

"  Half  weary  with  mj  wild  freaks,  I  sat  me  down  upon 
a  low  stool  beside  my  aunt,  and  rested  my  head  upon  her 
lap,  striving  to  conjecture  some  exciting  scheme  for  the 
morrow,  when  the  thought  of  Effie,  and  the  promise  I 
made  to  visit  her,  occurred  to  me. 

"  '  I  have  it  now,  aunty,'  I  said.  '  A  pleasant  ex- 
cursion for  to-morrow  in  view.  I  declare  I  have  been 
so  fascinated  with  the  beauties  and  exciting  scenes  of 
Willow  Dale  and  this  antique  home,  that  I  really  for- 
got to  tell  you  who  was  my  travelling  companion  in  the 
last  three  days  of  my  journey  to  Heatherton  Hall. 

"  '  Do  you  know  such  a  place  as  Glen  Cottage,  aunty  ?  ' 

"  '  Aye,  indeed  I  do ;  and  many  a  time  I  have  wept 


160  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

there  with  the  bereaved  ones,  when  death  has  entered 
and  borne  away  one  after  another  from  that  happy  band. 
And  many's  the  time  too,  that  he  has  entered  there  an 
unwelcome  guest.' 

"  '  Yes,  aunty  ;  and  yet  one  remains,  sad,  broken- 
hearted, and  alone.  And  she  it  was  who  bore  me  com- 
pany the  last  three  days  of  my  journey  here  ;  a  blighted, 
broken-hearted,  desolate  thing. 

"  '  Oh !  why  did  death  spare  her,  when  she  has  prayed 
so  oft  and  so  earnestly  for  the  boon  which  it  alone  can 
give.' 

"  '  God,  my  child,  controls  the  destinies  of  men.  His 
ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  and  are  often  dark  and  mys- 
terious to  us ;  and  we,  creatures  of  the  dust,  comprehend 
Him  not. 

"  '  If  He  has  spared  one  member  of  the  band  which 
nestled  so  lovingly  together  beneath  that  humble  roof,  it 
has,  doubtless,  been  for  some  good  purpose  which  we 
knew  not  of. 

"  '  But  tell  me  ;  has  Effie  Lee  returned  once  more  to  her 
childhood's  home,  and  so  desolate  and  broken-hearted  ? 

"  '  But  I  predicted  it  when  I  heard  of  her  marrying 
that  handsome  stranger  in  the  Spindle  City. 

"  '  Oh  !  she  was  so  unsuspecting,  so  confiding,  so  pure 
and  good,  that  she  saw  no  guile  lurking  beneath  his 
handsome  features.  And  so,  now,  he  has  deserted  her. 
Poor  Effie ! 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      161 

"'0  aunty,'  I  said,  pleadingly,  'do  tell  me  all 
about  the  Lees  and  Glen  Cottage ;  for  they  sound  so 
pretty,  that  I  really  do  desire  a  sketch  for  her  friend, 
Rosa  Lynd,  to  grace  a  novel.' 

"  '  I  fear,  my  child,  that  my  story  of  Glen  Cottage 
and  the  Lees  will  savor  too  much  of  sadness  for  your 
volatile  spirit.  For  you  know  how  much  you  dislike 
dark  life-pictures.' 

"  '  Just  this  once,'  I  pleaded,  '  and  I  will  be  sure  to 
find  some  sunbeams  amongst  the  dark  storm-clouds.' 

"  '  Well,  then,'  she  answered, '  it  is  useless  to  say  no  to 
you.  But  where  shall  I  begin  ?  Far,  far  aback  in  olden 
time  ?  Or — ah,  yes!  I  will  tell  you  how  the  Lees  first 
came  to  Glen  Cottage. 

"  '  I  know  that  your  sympathies  will  be  aroused  many 
times  in  my  recital ;  but  remember,  that  you  must  keep 
in  subjection  all  these  emotions  until  the  conclusion,  for 
you  know  that  I  am  not  fond  of  interruptions  in  the  shape 
of  interrogations,  exclamations,  or  ejaculations,  in  the 
midst  of  an  interesting  yarn.' 

"  I  laid  my  head  gently  and  quietly  upon  her  lap,  in 
token  of.  my  acquiescence,  elated  with  the  prospect  of  a 
rich  entertainment  for  the  evening,  and  pleasant  ex- 
cursion for  the  morrow. 

"  '  Well   do  I  remember  the   time,'  commenced  my 
aunt,  '  when  the  Lees  first  took  possession  of  Glen  Cot- 
tage.    It  was  mid- winter ;  and  such  a  storm  of  snow  and 
u* 


162  EFFIE    AND    I  ;     OK, 

wind  as  scarcely  ever  sweeps  over  the  rocky  coast  of 
this  eastern  State. 

"  '  Mr.  Lee  was  a  native  of  B ;  but  his  wee  bonnie 

wife  had  come  many  a  mile  from  her  childhood's  home. 

"  '  She  was  only  seventeen  when  Mr.  Lee,  on  a  tour 
through  her  native  town,  met,  wooed,  and  won  the  love 
of  the  gentle,  beautiful,  and  accomplished  Effie  Landon. 

"  '  Every  wish  of  her  young  life  had  been  gratified. 
She  had  known  no  care ;  felt  no  lack  of  idolatrous  love 
from  her  doating  parents ;  knew  no  deprivation  in  aught 
that  could  make  her  life  one  of  perpetual  sunshine  and 
flowers.  And  when,  on  her  eighteenth  birth-day,  she 
laid  her  hand  within  that  of  the  handsome  and  gentle- 
manly George  Lee,  and  all  so  trustingly  gave  her  life- 
happiness  to  his  keeping,  no  apprehensions,  no  misgiv- 
ings or  presentiments  of  ill  laid  like  dark  shadows  over 
the  sunny  future  which  her  glowing  imagery  portrayed. 

"  '  She  had  known  no  sorrow,  why  should  she  fear  any  ? 
She  was  the  youngest,  the  household  pet.  And  now,  oh 
now,  what  would  she  more  than  be  the  heart's  chosen  of 
that  idol  one. 

"  '  He  bore  her  away  to  a  distant  town,  where  he  had 
already  established  himself  in  a  very  respectable  me- 
chanical business.  And,  being  a  superior  workman,  was 
soon  on  the  high  road  to  wealth  and  an  elevated  position 
in  the  world. 

"  '  His  little  wife  was  very  happy,  for  she  felt  no  lack 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      163 

of  the  ardent  love  pledged  to  her  in  her  happy  girlhood. 
And  oft,  though  one  after  another  came  in  helpless  in- 
fancy to  claim  a  mother's  love,  yet  she  retained  her 
beauty  and  elasticity,  only  grown  a  little  more  matronly 
and  dignified,  from  the  position  which  she  held  in  her 
love-lit  home.' 

"  And  then  my  aunt  continued  her  relation  of  their  mis- 
fortunes and  bereavements  until  the  time  of  Effie's 
departure,  to  join  her  brother  in  the   distant  town   of 

A ;  all  of  which  I  knew  that  Effie  had  told  you  when 

we  were  room-mates  at  No.  10,  in  the  busy  Spindle  City. 

"  '  And  so  she  has  returned  to  us  again,  poor  thing, 
continued  my  aunt,  as  she  concluded  her  recital,  '  and 
doubly  desolate  now.' 

" '  Yes,  we  will  go  to  her  to-morrow ;  we  will  comfort 
her,  and  offer  to  h'er  the  consolation  which  only  a  true 
friend  can  bestow.' 

" '  And  I  shall  learn  her  history  too,  aunty,'  I  said, 
'  in  addition  to  the  one  you  have  been  relating.  But  it  is 
all  so  sad.  I  had  indeed  hoped  for  a  happier  finale  to 
this  little  sketch ;  but  I  have  not  much  to  hope  for  in 
Effie's  story.' 

"  '  Not  much,  I  fear,'  my  aunt  replied,  '  in  her  past 
history.  But  Effie's  sunbeams  may  yet  be  behind  the 
dark  storm-clouds  ;  and  even  now,  perhaps,  some  gentle 
zephyr  is  looping  back  the  heavy  folds,  that  its  undimmed 
radiance  may  light  up  the  dark  chambers  of  her  desolate 


164  EFFIE    AND     I. 

» 

heart.  Effie  has  seen  little  save  the  shady  side  of  life  ; 
but  the  resplendent  noonday  may  be  before  her  and  its 
gorgeous  decline.' 

" '  Yes,  dear  aunt,'  I  replied,  '  but  that  is  only  in 
perspective  uncertainty.  I  would  to  God  it  might  be 
otherwise  ;  but  I  fear,  that  as  the  dawning,  so  will  also  be 
life's  desolate  and  drear  decline.' 

"  '  Not  so  I,'  said  my  aunt,  hopefully.  '  A  prophetic 
inspiration  seems  to  whisper  that  her  day-star  of  happi- 
ness and  prosperity  is  dawning  for  an  unclouded, 
resplendent  morrow.' " 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

ON    THE    WAY    TO    GLEN    COTTAGE.  THE    TOMB    OF    THE    HEATHEK- 

TON's.  EFFIE    FOUND    SENSELESS  UPON    HER  MOTUER's   GRAVE. 

LITTLE  CHARLEY  JOYFULLY  RECOGNIZES  KATE.  —  EFFIE  RE- 
STORED TO  CONSCIOUSNESS.  —  AUNT  HEATHERTON  THE  GOOD 
SAMARITAN. 

"'TTTOULD  YOU  like  to  stop  here  a  few 
T  T  moments  ?  '  inquired  my  aunt,  as  we  neared 
the  entrance  to  a  public  burial-ground,  on  our  way  to  Glen 
Cottage,  the  following  morning.  '  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  look  at  our  family  tomb,  and  also  see  the  enclosure 
where  the  Lees  are  at  last  peacefully  reposing.' 

" '  Oh  yes,  indeed  I  should,'  I  answered,  'for  it  will 
add  much,  though  sad  it  be,  to  the  interest  which  their 
history  has  already  excited  within  my  mind.  And  I  am 
anxious  also  to  see  the  tomb  where  repose  my  honored 
ancestors.' 

"  The  morning  air  was  fresh  and  balmy,  the  walk  in- 
vigorating through  the  broad  avenues,  on  either  side 
where  the  rich  flowers  of  summer  were  lifting  their  smil- 
ing, dew-spangled  petals  to  the  morning  sunbeams. 

"  We  entered  the  enclosure  of  the  dead  ;  and  as  we 


166  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

passed  along  through  the  shadowy  aisles,  we  saw  much, 
both  of  modern  improvement  and  decaying  antiquity,  to 
excite  our  interest  and  admiration. 

"  And  one  little  grave  I  noticed  in  particular,  as  we 
passed  up  the  gravelled  walk,  with  a  plain  white  stone, 
upon  which  was  inscribed  upon  the  chiselled  scroll, 
'  Lilla.' 

"  I  looked  inquiringly  at  my  aunt,  who  replied :  '  That 
Lilla  had  been  the  family  pet  of  a  very  dear  friend.  But 
death  had  claimed  her,  and  there  she  lay,  where  the 
sweetest  flowers  of  summer  bloomed  over  her  little  grave.' 

"  Upon  it  lay  the  withered  boquets,  which  every  morn- 
ing had  been  placed  there,  by  a  mother's  hand,  fresh 
and  fragrant,  upon  the  white  marble  slab. 

"  Contiguous  to  this  was  a  family  lot  enclosed  by  a 
neat  white  railing,  shaded  here  and  there  by  thick 
clusters  of  the  cypress  and  fir-tree,  where,  amidst  the 
low  branches,  the  rose  and  sweet-brier  mingled  their  fra- 
grant bloom. 

"  And  in  the  centre  —  almost  entirely  surrounded  by 
mounds  reared  above  the  mouldering  dead  —  was  a 
plain  white  monument,  with  '  Lee '  simply  inscribed 
upon  the  front. 

"  '  This,'  said  my  aunt,  looking  aroimd  the  enclosure, 
'  was  John's  last  work,  before  his  final  leave-takmg  from 
his  native  home.  His  mother's  grave  was  the  last  one 
which  was  added  to  the  many  which  you  here  observe ; 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN     A     COTTON    MILL        167 

and  there  it  is,'  she  continued,  pointing  to  a  mossy 
mound,  beneath  the  deep  shade  of  clustering  evergreens. 

"  At  that  instant,  the  half  sad,  half  gladsome  accents 
of  a  childish  voice,  rang  out  from  the  cypress  shade  to 
which  my  aunt  had  directed  my  attention.  And,  peer- 
ing cautiously  through  the  thick  umbrage,  lest  I  might 
disturb  the  tributary  devotions  of  some  recently  bereaved 
mourner,  a  sight  met  my  vision  which  almost  paralyzed 
my  brain,  and  sent  the  warm  life-blood  sluggishly  back 
through  the  chilled  fibres  of  my  healthful  frame. 

" '  Can  it  be,'  I  exclaimed,  springing  impulsively 
forward  to  the  prostrate  form  beside  that  mother's  grave, 
'  can  it  be,  Effie,  that  I  meet  you  here  and  thus  ?  ' 

" '  Efl&e !  Effie!  did  you  say?'  "ejaculated  my 
aunt,  Avith  surprise,  quickly  approaching  the  spot,  and 
anxiously  kneeling  down  beside  the  pale,  rigid  face 
pillowed  upon  that  mother's  grave. 

" '  This,  surely,  is  not  Effie  Lee  !  '  said  my  aunt,  care- 
fully scanning  the  sharp  features  of  that  pale,  emaciated 
face.  '  No,  no  ;  you  are  mistaken,'  she  continued,  look- 
ing half  doubtingly,  half  inquiringly  at  me, 

" '  She  was  my  stage-coach  companion,'  I  answered, 
'  and  the  Effie  Lee  of  my  Spindle  City  acquaintance. 
Poor  Effie ! '  I  whispered,  bending  tearfully  over  her, 
'  would  to  God  that  I  could  avert  the  stern  mandates  of 
thy  cruel  fate.' 

" '  Mamma  cry ;  mamma  sleep,'  said  little    Charley, 


168  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

with  childlike  simplicity,  laying  his  little  dimpled  hand 
with  shy  confidence  upon  my  tear-drenched  cheek. 
Then,  nestling  closer  to  his  mother's  side,  he  kissed  the 
blue,  pulseless  temples  and  rigid  cheek,  and  coaxingly 
whispered,  '  Wake  up,  mamma,  Charley  be  good,  Charley 
love  00  ;  lady  here,  mamma.'  And  he  kissed  again  and 
again  the  cold  white  lips,  rigid  as  death  to  the  warm 
pressure  of  her  idol  boy. 

"  '  Better  far,'  said  my  aunt,  '  were  it  the  sleep  that 
knows  no  waking,  save  only  that  which  wakes  to  spirit- 
ual life  in  the  New  Jerusalem,  where  tears,  and  sorrow, 
and  anguish  are  known  no  more  forever,  and  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling. 

" '  But  this  poor  sufferer,'  she  continued,  raising  her 
head  gently  from  the  turf,  and  chafing  the  cold  temples 
with  her  soft,  warm  palm. 

"  '  This  poor  sufferer  has  not  yet  thrown  off  her  weary 
earth-shackles.  I  feel  the  sluggish  pulses  strugghng 
back  to  life,  or  rather  to  a  continuation  of  anguish  and 
desolation. 

"  '  But  I  cannot  make  her  Effie,  the  handsome,  hope- 
ful Effie,  who  amidst  smiles  and  tears,  caresses  and  con- . 
gratulations,  left  us  to  join  her  brother  in  a  distant  town. 

"'But  ah!'  she  continued,  'sorrow  and  desertion, 
such  as  I  fear  has  been  Efiie's  fate,  will  soon  steal  away 
the  freshness  of  beauty  and  vigor  from  fair  faces  and 
youthful  forms.' 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   169 

"  A  deep,  heavy  sob  struggled  from  up  the  heart- 
depths,  and,  with  a  look  of  inexpressible  anguish,  as  the 
pale,  thin  lids  were  raised  from  their  swollen  sockets, 
she  feebly  murmured : 

"  '  Would  to  God,  my  boy,  that  death  would  end  our 
sorrows  here,  within  these  hallowed  shades,  where  the 
loved  ones  of  my  childhood  are  silently  mouldering.' 

"  The  nerveless  hand  was  laid  lovingly  upon  the  soft 
baby-cheek,  which  nestled  closer  and  closer  to  her  throb- 
bing bosom. 

"  '  Effie  ! '  I  whispered,  pressing  my  lips  to  her  cold, 
pale  brow. 

"  '  Mamma !  0  mamma ! '  chimed  in  the  soft  voice  of 
little  Charley,  almost  frantic  with  joy  at  his  mother's 
restoration. 

"  '  Charley  do  love  oo,  —  oh,  so  much  !  Charley  be 
good,  mamma !  and  lady  come  too,  mamma.  See  !  see  ! 
good  lady.  She  won't  let  mamma  cry,  will  oo,  lady,' 
he  said,  twining  his  little  snowy  arms  affectionately 
around  my  neck  with  a  hopeful,  beseeching  look  in  the 
dark  blue  eyes,  raised  in  artless  simplicity  to  mine. 

"  '  No,  no !  nor  you  either,  my  little  cherub,'  I  an- 
swered, while  the  hot  tears  gushed  up  uncontrollably 
from  my  own  agitated  bosom. 

"  '  No,  darling ;  your  mother  shall  not  cry  again,  if 
the  good  God  will  endow  me  with  the  power  to  suppress 
her  tears.' 


170  EFFIEANDi;     OR, 

"  '  Come  Effie,  I  said,  cheerfully,  while  I  assisted  my 
aunt  in  raising  her  from  the  damp  turf,  '  I  have  come  to 
see  you  to-day,  and  my  good  aunt  is  here  too. 

" '  She  is  one  of  the  good  Samaritans  which  happen 
along  sometimes,  just  in  the  right  time,  with  the  soothing 
balm  and  healing  ointment  for  the  wayfarer's  bleeding 
wounds ;  and  I'll  warrant  me  she  has  some  soothing 
restorative  just  suited  to  your  own  case,  dear  Effie. 

" '  Oh  don't !  don't  weep  so,  you  are  not  the  only 
suiferer  in  this  treacherous  world.  Look  up  to  the 
bright  sunshine,  and  around  on  the  smiling  flowers,  and 
the  earth  teeming  with  beauty  and  bloom  ;  and  see  how 
the  lazy  breezes  float  by,  laden  with  the  rich  nectarine 
which  they  gather  from  shrub  and  flower. 

" '  And  then  look  beyond  and  away  into  the  future  — 
your  future  —  and  see  there  the  bright  rainbow  of  hope, 
spanning  the  dark  clouds  of  sorrow,  which  have  passed  on 
and  away,  leaving  undimmed  the  sunshine  and  the  flowers 
which  are  yet  to  cheer  and  beautify  your  life-path. 

"  '  Oh !  I  am  something  of  a  prophet,  I  know,  and  do 
believe  in  impressions  when  they  come  thus  forcibly  upon 
me.' 

"  '  Oh,  my  dear  friend,'  sobbed  Effie,  '  there  is  no  fu- 
ture for  me,  save  only  that  of  a  lone,  broken-hearted, 
"and  homeless  wanderer.  All  that  have  truly  loved  me 
are  there,'  she  said,  pointing  to  the  mounds  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  evergreens. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      171 

"  '  And  all  that  remains  to  me  is  this.'  And  she 
pressed  convulsivelj  to  her  heaving  bosom  her  darling 
baby-boj,  and  kissed  again  and  again,  with  frenzied 
affection,  his  fair,  uplifted  brow. 

"  '  The  home  of  my  childhood,  where  I  had  hoped  to 
rest,  at  least  for  a  season,  and  gather  new  strength  to 
struggle  with  the  dark  waves  which  dash  above  and 
around  me  with  relentless  power,  is  closed  unpitjinglj 
against  me.  And  the  only  shelter  for  me  and  my  babe, 
in  the  wide  world,  is  the  evergreens  which  chant  their 
mournful  dirges  above  my  parents'  graves.'  " 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

EFFIE    DEKIED   HEP08B    IN   GLEN   COTTAGE. AUNT    HEATHERTOn'S 

BALH. THE   NEW   HOME. 

"  '  T?  ^  ^  I  ^  •    *®^1  ^^  truly,'  said  my  aunt,  bending 

-L^  eagerly  forward,  with  a  flush  of  indignation  over- 
spreading her  usually  mild  features,  '  has  Mary  Ashton 
turned  coldly  away  from  you  in  your  sorrows,  and  closed 
the  doors  of  Glen  Cottage  to  you  and  your  helpless 
babe  ? ' 

"  '  It  is  even  so,  my  dear  Miss  Heatherton,  and  I  have 
learned,  oh,  how  bitterly !  that  friendship  seldom  outlives 
prosperity.  And  love  is  only  a  byword  on  the  lips  of 
wealthy  sycophants.' 

"  '  Such  is  too  often  the  case,  I  will  admit,'  answered 
my  aunt,  thoughtfully^  '  But  there  are  a  few  exceptions, 
Effie ;  and  I  will  prove  to  you  the  truthfulness  of  my 
assertions. 

"  '  Come  with  me,  Effie ;  there  is  room  enough  yet  in 
my  heart  for  you,  and  in  the  old  hall  too ;  and  many  a 
room  there  is,  drear  and  desolate  enough,  for  the  want  of 
an  occupant  or  two  to  break  the  monotony  of  its  death- 
like stillness. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   173 

" '  Come  Effie,  baby  and  all ;  and  when  the  doors  of 
Heatherton  Hall  are  closed  against  you,  then  may  you 
say  that  love  is  an  illusion  and  friendship  a  crouching 
menial  to  prosperity  and  wealth.' 

"  '  There  ! '  I  exclaimed,  springing  impulsively  to  my 
feet,  and  in  my  wild,  frantic  joy  half  raising  her  nerveless, 
trembling  form  from  the  low  turf. 

"  '  There,  Effie  !  did  I  not  tell  you  that  the  good  Sa- 
maritan had  come  with  a  soothing  restorative  just  suited 
to  your  need  ?  And  I  am  sure,  we  shall  all  be  so  glad  to 
have  you  with  us.  And  you  will  grow  beautiful,  bloom- 
ing, healthful,  and  happy  again,  under  my  dear  good 
aunty's  kind  supervision. 

"  '  And  we  will  ride  and  walk  and  sing  together,  and 
talk  away  the  long  summer  twilights,  and  play  hide-and- 
go-seek  with  Charley  and  the  flitting  moonbeams  beneath 
the  willow  boughs,  and  explore  every  chink  and  cranny 
in  the  old  hall,  every  nook  and  mouse-bed  in  the  old 
park,  and  frighten  away,  in  our  weird  revellings,  all  the 
owls,  bats,  and  croaking  ravens  from  Willow  Dale,  and 
send  all  the  blue  imps  to  the  shadowy  regions  of  obUvion. 

"  '  And  little  Charley  shall  dance  and  shout  and  romp 
to  his  heart's  content,  and  chase  the  pigs  over  the  pear 
patch,  and  the  hens  into  the  frog-pond,  the  ducks  through 
the  flower-beds,  and  the  turkeys  into  the  pantry,  and, 
oh !  such  times  as  we  will  have  at  Willow  Dale  and  the 
old  hall ;  worth  all  the  tears,  and  heart-aches,  and  false 

15* 


174  EFFIE    AND    Ij     OR, 

friends,  and  treacherous  foes,  and  fawning  sycophants  in 
Christendom,     And ' 

"  '  And,'  said  the  gentle  voice  of  good  Aunt  Heather- 
ton,  '  the  old  horse  is  panting  beneath  the  scorching  rays 
of  the  summer  sun,  patiently,  waiting  our  return. 

"  '  The  carriage  is  waiting,  and  ample  enough  to  take 
us  all  back  to  old  Heatherton.  So  we  will  just  assist 
Effie  to  the  most  comfortable  seat  it  contains,  and  I  will 
sit  by  her  side,  while  you  and  Charley  drive  back  to 
Willow  Dale. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  the  old  hall  now,  Effie,' 
said  my  aunt,  after  we  were  all  comfortably  seated  in  the 
old-fashioned  vehicle. 

"  '  And  never  again,  while  I  live,  and  a  shingle  clatters 
upon  its  venerable  roof,  shall  you  go  out  a  homeless  wan- 
derer into  the  cruel,  uncharitable  world. 

"  '  Not  a  word  of  thanks,  Effie  ;  and  just,  if  you  please, 
brush  away  those  tear-drops  too,  for  you  have  wept 
enough  for  one  life-time  already,  I  should  judge,  from 
your  faded  eyes  and  the  tear-channels  adown  your 
sunken  cheeks.  No,  Effie,  not  a  word  of  thanks.  I 
am  the  obliged  party.  You  don't  know  how  selfish  I 
have  grown  in  all  these  long  years  of  your  absence,  and 
my  home  has  grown  desolate  too,  and  I  have  sighed  for 
just  such  companionship,  just  such  sympathy,  as  yours ; 
just  such  music  as  that  little  artless  Charley  can  make 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN     A     COTTON    MILL.      175 

through  the  deep  stillness,  which  all  these  years  have 
.been  unbroken  in  the  spacious  rooms  of  Heatherton  Hall. 

"  '  Oh !  I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  with  me,  Effie,  for 
this  little  mad-cap  niece  of  mine  will  soon  flit  away  to  her 
own  home-nest,  and  then,  were  it  not  for  you  and  Charley, 
we  should  sink  back  into  our  former  dull,  monotonous, 
quiet  way  of  living.  Oh  !  no  thanks,  Effie  ;  only  do  me 
the  favor  to  accept  a  home  and  protection  in  Heatherton 
Hall,  and  we  shall  all  be  benefited  and  the  happier  for 
your  acquiescence  to  our  propositions.' 

"  Effie  answered  not,  for  she  was  weeping  tears  of 
gratitude  upon  the  bosom  of  dear  Aunt  Heatherton. 

"  And  little  Charley  was  gleefully  clapping  his  hands  at 
the  nimble  squirrels  and  timid  hares,  which  the  sound  of 
our  carriage  wheels  had  frightened  away  from  their  nut- 
cracking  felicity,  to  seek  the  protection  of  the  thick  um- 
brage or  moss-nooks  which  lay  along  the  shady  wood- 
land." 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

BFFIE   IN  HEATHERTON  HALL.  —  HEE   PROSTRATION  AND  RECOVERY. 
—  GIVING    A   HISTORY    OF   HER   LOVE   AND    DESERTION. 

"  T  T    W  A  S  a  glorious  evening  in  early  autumn  ;  for 

A  the  broad  harvest-moon  was  throwing  a  hallowed 
radiance  over  the  quiet  scenes  of  Willow  Dale,  bathing  in 
a  flood  of  golden  beauty  the  adjacent  hill-tops,  tinging 
here  and  there  with  a  deeper,  richer  hue,  the  varied 
autumn  foliage  of  tree  and  shrub. 

"  Effie,  pale  and  languid,  entered  the  cozy  little  draw- 
ing-room, and  seated  herself  in  the  luxuriant  arm-chair, 
which  my  aunt  had  placed  for  her  beside  a  window  com- 
manding a  view  of  this  gorgeous  and  varied  beauty. 

"  It  was  the  first  evening,  since  her  arrival  at  the  hall, 
that  she  had  been  able  to  join  us  in  our  social  circle. 

"  Three  weeks  she  had  been  prostrated  by  illness 
contracted  by  the  sufferings  from  exposure,  as  also  the 
nervous  and  mental  excitements  caused  by  her  heartless 
persecutors. 

"  And  then  when  relief  did  come,  in  the  soft,  soothing 
sympathy  of  real,  unfeigned,  and  truthful  friendship,  the 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      177 

reaction  was  so  great,  from  the  verj  depths  of  hopeless 
despair  to  the  warm  sympathy  of  truthful  affection  and 
ready  relief  which  she  found  in  mj  Aunt  Heatherton's 
home  of  plenty,  that  it  produced  a  severe  nervous  ina- 
bility, which  prostrated  her,  for  weeks,  a  helpless  invalid, 
after  her  arrival  at  the  hall. 

"  But  now  she  had  nearly  recovered,  only  still  weak 
and  emaciated,  from  her  previous  sufferings. 

"  And  as  this  Avas  to  be  the  last  evening  I  designed  to 
spend  at  the  hall,  she  had  made  an  effort  to  join  us  in  the 
cosy  little  parlor ;  and,  by  my  aunt^s  kindly  and  urgent 
request,  who  had  informed  her  that  I  was  anxious  to 
have  her  relate  to  me  some  of  the  incidents  which  had 
occurred  in  her  eventful  life  since  her  bridal  leave- 
taking  from  the  Spindle  City. 

"  '  I  have  but  few  bright  pictures  to  present  to  you  in 
my  narrations  of  real  hfe,'  she  said,  after  we  had  all 
gathered  around  her  in  a  listening  attitude. 

"  '  But  sometimes  a  shadowy  landscape  or  sunset 
view  is  interesting  to  a  distant  observer.  And  as  you 
have  never  been  affected  by  the  sorrows  and  sufferings 
through  which  I  have  passed,  perhaps  my  narration  may 
not  be  without  interest  to  you. 

" '  You  are  acquainted  with  my  history  previous  to 
my  bridal,  and  I  have  only  to  commence  at  the  old  par- 
sonage away  in  the  Spindle  City,  and  close  at  Heath 
Hall,  with  the  golden  harvest  moon,  laying  like  a  broad 


178  BFFIB    AND     I;     OR, 

sheet  of  molten  lava  upon  the  beautiful  landscape 
before  us. 

"  '  When  I  left  the  old  parsonage  on  mj  bridal  mom, 
I  accompanied  my  husband  to  the  home  he  had  provided 
for  mj  reception,  in  a  thriving  little  village  near  the 
eastern  boundary  of  my  native  State,  on  the  provincial 
line. 

"  '  It  was  an  humble  cottage  to  be  sure,  but  then  it 
sufficed  for  our  present  need  ;  and  my  heart  was  bound- 
ing with  bright  hopes  and  joyous  anticipations  of  future 
bliss  and  prosperity  with  my  heart's  chosen. 

" '  And  then  my  glowing  imagination  formed  many 
little  improvements  in  my  cottage  home,  and  laid  plans 
for  my  nimble  fingers  and  refined  taste  to  make  it  so 
fairy-like,  so  beautiful  with  woodbines,  and  roses,  and 
morning-glories,  and  daisies,  and  dew-drops,  and  fra- 
grant shrubs,  and  graceful  shade-trees ;  with  walks, 
and  fountains,  and  arbors ;  with  mossy  slopes  and  sunny 
daisy-patches. 

" '  And  within,  how  my  nimble  fingers  should  beautify 
the  walls  with  paintings  and  sketches  and  needle-work, 
and  fill  the  vases  with  the  delicate  wax-flowers  of  my 
own  creating. 

"  *  And  then  the  lounges  and  easy-chairs  and  otto- 
mans my  busy  fingers  would  manufacture  for  real  home 
comfort.  Oh,  I  was  never  weary  in  devising  some 
additional  comfort  or  decoration  for  our  little  domain. 


SEVEN     YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.      179 

"  '  And  then,  like  an  artless  child,  I  would  sit  upon 
my  husband's  knee,  and  twine  my  arms  affectionately 
around  his  neck,  and  while  I  bathed  his  cheek  and 
brow  with  warm  kisses  from  my  truthful  lips,  my  heart 
would  throb,  oh,  so  wildly,  for  one  Avord  of  commendation 
and  praise  for  my  little  achievements  in  those  household 
comforts  and  decorations. 

"  '  But  he  never  sfeemed  to  express,  either  by  word  or 
look,  any  appreciation  of  my  efforts  to  please.  Only  half 
in  earnest,  half  in  jest,  he  would  answer  my  beseeching 
look,  with  —  "Ha!  that's  what  I  married  you  for,  to 
make  my  home  comfortable,  cook  my  dinners,  repair  my 
wardrobe,  and  take  care  of  the  babies." 

"  '  Oh,  how  often  my  heart  ached  in  those  first  years 
of  our  wedded  life  with  disappointment,  and  yearned  for 
sympathy,  the  sympathy  of  a  heart  congenial  with  my 
own. 

" '  But  I  was  away  amongst  strangers,  in  a  strange 
land,  and  my  husband  all  the  world,  and  dearer  than 
life  to  me.    , 

"  '  And  oh,  how  ardently  I  hoped  and  prayed  that  he 
would  yet  understand  my  sensitive  and  childlike  nature, 
and  stoop  a  little  from  his  lofty,  matter-of-fact  position, 
to  the  simplicity  of  my  own  idolatrous  and  undivided 
affection. 

"  'The  truthfulness  of  his  love  I  had  never  doubted, 
although  much  of  his  time  was  spent  with  his  former 


180  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

associates,  and  many  of  them  of  doubtful  reputation, 
while  I  remained  at  home  to  cook  his  dinners,  and,  as  he 
termed  it,  "  look  after  the  babies."  My  home  was  the 
dearest  place  to  me  in  the  wide  world,  and  had  it  been 
hallowed  by  my  husband's  love,  as  my  own,  it  would 
have  been  to  us  an  Eden  of  bliss,  and  uninterrupted 
felicity. 

"  '  One  year  I  had  been  a  wife  when  my  httle  Charley 
was  born ;  and  with  almost  frantic  joy  I  clasped  him 
to  my  bosom,  and  prayed,  in  the  first  outgushings  of  my 
maternal  bliss,  that  he  might  be  the  link  to  bind  us  more 
firmly  and  lovingly  together,  and  an  irresistible  attrac- 
tion to  our  pleasant,  though  to  him  dull  and  quiet  home. 

"  '  Charley  was  a  frail,  delicate  blossom,  fading  day 
by  day,  till  at  last  he  lay  like  a  drooping  lily,  within  the 
pure  white  folds  of  his  pillowed  crib,  ready  to  be  borne 
upon  an  angel's  wings  to  the  heavenly  elysium. 

"  '  Long  weeks  of  prostration  followed,  and  my  home, 
oh,  it  seemed  enveloped  in  the  same  pall-like  gloom 
which  shrouded  my  despairing  heart. 

"  '  My  husband  "  saw  no  reason  why  I  should  sorrow' 
and  mourn  for  that  which  I  could  not  help." 

" '  But  his  matter-of-fact  reasonings  failed  to  soothe 
the  anguish  and  heart-yearnings  of  a  mother's  lacerated 
bosom. 

"  '  Oh  !  how  my  heart  ached  for  my  husband's  sympa- 
thy.    And  I  wept  and  prayed  upon  his  bosom   for  the 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A     COTTON     MILL.      181 

love  and  sympathy  a  faithful  wife  should  claim  and 
expect  from  the  husband  for  whom  she  had  left  all  to 
share  his  fate,  whether  in  weal  or  woe. 

"  '  But  even  while  I  hung  upon  his  neck,  pleading  in 
the  wild  paroxysms  of  grief  for  his  love  and  tenderness, 
he  would  turn  his  cold  gray  eyes  upon  me,  divested  of 
every  expression  of  affection,  and  say,  while  he  deliber- 
ately unclasped  from  his  neck  the  frantic  grasp  of  my 
pale,  slender  fingers : 

" '  Did  I  not  tell  you  long  ago  that  I  loved  you  ? 
And  did  I  not  make  you  my  wife  ?  What  greater  proof 
can  any  reasonable  woman  expect  or  desire  of  a  hus- 
band's love  ? ' 

"  '  And  then,  without  designing  to  give  me  the  kiss 
for  which  my  trembling  lips  were  upturned,  and  for 
which  my  tearful  eyes  pleaded  so  eloquently,  he  would 
turn  coldly  away,  leaving  doubly  desolate  my  heart  and 
home. 

"  '  Oh !  the  wear  J  days  and  nights  I  have  spent  in 
the  silence  and  solitude  of  my  little  cot,  anxiously  wait- 
ing and  listening  for  his  well-known  footfall  upon  our 
humble  threshold. 

"  '  And  when  at  last  he  did  come,  I  would  hasten  to 
meet  him  with  all  the  eagerness  of  an  impatient  child, 
and  shower  upon  him  the  kisses  and  caresses  which  my 
own  idolatrous  love  and  impulsive  nature  could  not  resist, 
and  for  which  my  heart  turned,  oh,  so  yearningly,  for 

16 


182  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

those  life-giving,  heart-cheering  pledges  of  unchanging 
devotion. 

*' '  But  he  always  received  my  caresses  with  a  cold, 
dignified  grace,  and  an  expression  which  seemed  to  say, 
— "  such  is  your  duty  as  my  wife  and  mistress  of  my 
home.  But  pshaw  !  I  can't  stoop  to  such  trifling  matters. 
I  am  a  man,  and  lord  of  the  manor.  You  must  take  it 
for  granted  that  I  love  you,  or  you  would  not  long  hold 
the  position  of  wife  within  Wilton  Harriman's  domicile. 
There  is  many  a  one  ready  to  jump  into  your  shoes 
whenever  you  desire  to  lay  them  aside.  So  you  see  you 
are  a  free  nigger  after  all,  and  might,  if  you  would,  be  a 
very  happy  one." 

" '  Such  was  the  language  addressed  to  me  on  his 
return  from  his  evening  revels  or  days  of  absence, 
till  my  heart  grew  sick,  and  hope  fainter  and  fainter, 
and  scarcely  a  ray  was  left  to  cheer  the  lonely  hours 
which  his  absence  and  cruel  desertion  produced  in  our 
humble  home. 

" '  For  often  when  he  came  his  step  was  unsteady, 
and  the  fumes  of  the  drunkard's  bowl  confirmed  to  me 
the  sad  tales  which  others  had  hinted,  —  that  he  had 
been  an  occasional  drinker  from  a  mere  lad,  and  often 
had  dipped  a  little  too  freely  with  his  bacchanalian  rev- 
ellers, either  for  his  own  good  or  the  happiness  and  well- 
being  of  those  who  trusted^  in  his  love  or  protection. 

" '  Weeks  at  a  time  he  has  left  me  weak  and  sick, 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      183 


with  my  fragile  boy,  without  assistance  or  even  the  lux- 
ury of  a  well-prepared  meal  and  comforts  of  a  good  fire. 
Oh  !  those  days  of  sadness  and  privation ;  how  gloomily 
the  recollection  of  them  gathers  around  me  at  this  mo- 
ment.    And  so  real  too.' " 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

EFFIE'S  flight  from  her  treacherous  husband.  —  IS  DENIED 
ADMISSION  TO  THE  HOME  OF  A  FORSfER  FRIEND.  —  IIER  RES- 
CUE  AND    RELIEF. 

«'rpHE  LITTLE  patrimony  left  me  by  my 
-I-  brother,  added  to  that  which  my  labors  had  won, 
which  I  had  so  hopefully  presented  to  my  husband  to  aid 
and  encourage  him  in  the  commencement  of  our  united 
efforts,  was  rapidly  disappearing. 

" '  Indeed,  our  little  cottage,  instead  of  being  trans- 
formed into  a  larger  and  more  commodious  house,  as  it 
should  have  been  in  all  those  long  years,  was  already 
mortgaged  for  its  real  value  ;  and  the  little  plats,  where 
my  own  hands  had  placed  trees  and  shrubs  of  ornor 
mental  beauty,  had  been  desecrated  by  strangers' 
hands,  and  divested  of  their  bloom  and  beauty,  for 
the  erection  of  rude  out-houses  and  workshops  of  inferior 
construction. 

"  '  Oh !  how  yearningly  I  pressed  my  little  frail 
baby-boy  to  my  bosom,  and  prayed,  in  the  agony  of  my 
tortured  and  bereaved  S(iul,  that  he  might  be  spared 
as  a  life-sustainer  to  the  last  tendril  of  my  dying  love. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      185 

"  '  He  has  been  spared.  But  oh  !  what  agony  I  have 
endured  for  him,  and  anxietj  lest  he  should  be  torn 
from  me  by  a  hand  more  cruel  and  relentless  than  death 
and  the  grave. 

"  '  I  have  been  deserted  by  him  who  should  have 
cherished  and  protected  me  ;  by  him  in  whom  I  trusted 
as  sacredly  as  in  the  God  of  heaven. 

" '  He  deserted  his  home,  and  spent  his  time  and 
substance,  as  did  the  prodigal  son,  with  harlots  and  in 
riotous -living.  And,  spurred  on  by  his  evil  advisers, 
the  wantons  with  whom  he  associated,  he  sought  to 
bring  against  me  the  false  accusation  of  insanity,  and 
to  incarcerate  me  in  a  lunatic  asylum  as  an  excuse  to 
tear  my  babe  from  my  bleeding  bosom,  and  heartlessly 
deprive  me  of  the  last  remaining  stimulus  to  life  and 
hope,  for  the  wantons  for  whom  he  had  bartered  health, 
honor,  happiness,  home,  and  heaven. 

"  '  I  gathered  up  the  few  remaining  keepsakes  and 
trinkets  which  had  beefi  presented  me  long  ago  by  dear 
friends,  and  which  I  had  managed  to  preserve  from  the 
sacrilegious  hand  of  my  unfaithful  and  prodigal  husband. 

'"I  fled  secretly  with  my  child  to  a  neighboring 
town,  where -resided  one  who,  in  the  days  of  my  pros- 
perity, had  manifested  much  friendship  for  me. 

" '  Many  a  weary  mile  I  travelled  on  foot  to  reach, 
as  I  hoped,  her  friendly  and  hospitable  abode. 

"  '  And  when,  late  at  nightfall,  I  arrived  weary  and 

16* 


186  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

travel-worn,  hoping  that  there  at  least  I  could  find 
safety  and  rest,  she  met  me  with  a  cold,  disdainful  air, 
and  spurned  me  as  she  would  the  vilest  outcast  in  the 
world. 

"  '  Mj  head  grew  dizzy  from  the  sudden  'realities  of 
hopeful  trust  to  hopeless  despair,  and  I  sank  down  in  a 
state  of  insensibility  at  the  door  which  had  been  so  in- 
humanely closed  against  me. 

" '  How  long  I  remained  there,  I  know  not.  But 
when  I  again  woke  to  consciousness,  I  found  mysolf  upon 
a  soft  bed,  within  a  home  of  true  benevolence  and  com- 
fort. A  kind  neighbor  was  passing  just  in  time  to  hear 
the  heartless  and  foul  abuse  with  which  she  had  denied . 
me  admission  to  her  whited  sepulchre,  "  which "  she 
persisted  in  telling  me,  "  had  never  yet  been  polluted 
by  an  outcast,  or '  deserter  from  a  faithful  husband,  and 
the  home  he  had  honored  me  with." 

" '  He  saw  me  fall  senselessly  upon  the  damp  turf, 
and  the  door  close  inhumanly  against  me  ;  and  then  he 
took  us  to  his  own  home,  where  humane  hearts  throbbed 
around  me,  and  tears  of  true  sympathy  fell  in  behalf  of 
the  lone  and  homeless  wanderers. 

"  '  She  who  had  so  inhumanly  closed  hep  heart  —  no, 
she  had  no  heart  —  her  doors  against  us,  was  a  model 
of  excellence  and  vaunted  piety  ;  was  at  the  head  of  all 
the  benevolent  and  missionary  societies  for  miles  around. 
She  had  even  headed  a  list,  with  a  very  flattering  do- 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   187 

nation,  for  the  erection  of  a  "  widow  and  orphan  asylum" 
among  the  Shampeaceso  Indians,  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  in  close  proximity  to  the  setting  of  the  sun  ; 
for  which  great  act  of  self-denial  and  benevolence  she 
had  been  constituted  an  honorable  life-member  of  that 
society  which  her  benevolence  had  founded,  by  rolling 
the  ■  first  great  stone  into  that  slough  of  unheard-of  un- 
enlightened heathenism.  And  for  which  great  act,  also, 
she  expected  a  speedy  millennium  would  follow,  as  the 
immediate  fruits  of  her  great  and  world-renowned  efforts. 

"  '  In  the  concert-rooms  and  prayer-meetings  few 
could  go  beyond  her  in  her  eloquent  appeals  to  the  un- 
converted ;  and  also  to  the  members,  generally,  for  a 
more  zealous  interest  in  behalf  of  the  Shampeacesos 
toward  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

"  '  She  had  even  constituted  her  husband  a  travelling 
agent  for  the  free  distribution  of  tracts,  to  moralize,  nat- 
uralize, and  humbugize  the  whole  human  family  into  one 
loving  knot  of  brotherhood.  And  also  to  solicit  do- 
nations for  the  Shampeacesos  and  the  asylum  which 
she  had  so  benevolently  founded. 

"  '  It  was  from  her  home,  which  I  have  designated  the 
whited  sepulchre,  I  was  ejected,  or  rather  forbidden  to 
enter  with  my  bleeding  heart,  weary  limbs,  and  starving 
babe.  And  had  it  not  have  been  for  the  Christlike 
benevolence  of  that  huruble  Sadducee,  who  worshipped 
afar  off,  we  might  even  now  have  been  bleaching  upon 


188  EFFIE    AND    I. 

the  uncovered  sod,  victims  to  her  uncharitable  and 
heartless  cruelty. 

"  '  With  the  heavy  weight  of  my  former  misfortunes, 
and  the  almost  hopeless  despair  which  closed  around  me, 
I  made  one  more  eflFort  to  struggle  out  into  the  world, 
unaided  by  any  friendly  arm,  save  the  arm  of  God  and 
those  who  had  so  kindly  sheltered  me  in  those  hours  of 
homeless  destitution. 

"  '  And  they  only  who  have  waded  through  the  deep 
waters,  and  beat  back  alone  the  angry  billows,  can  know 
what  my  sufferings  have  been/  " 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

EFFIE's     unexpected     meeting      with     KATE      STANTON     AT      THE 

WAYSIDE    INN.  THET    JODRNBT  TOGETHER.  HEK  RECEPTION 

AT  .  GLEN     COTTAGE. GOING      TO       COLONIZE        THE       PEE-AVEE 

ISLANDS. 

« '  T  R  E  S  0  L  V  E  D  once  more  to  visit  the  home 
J-  of  my  childhood.  And  if  that  was  closed  against 
me,  then  I  would  lay  me  down  to  die  upon  the  turf, 
where  my  mother's  form  was  peacefully  mouldering  in 
sweet  forgetfulness  of  the  life-pangs  and  suflFerings  which 
she  had  endured  before  me. 

"  '  The  kind  farmer  who  had  taken  me  in  a  state  of 
insensibility  from  the  door  of  the  Shampeacesos'  friend, 
also  generously  supplied  me  with  funds  to  defray  my 
expenses  to  Glen  Cottage.  And  his  truly  Christianlike 
wife  and  amiable  daughter  made  me  some  necessary 
additions  to  my  scanty  wardrobe. 

"  '  By  taking  an  early  stage,  which  passed  through 
their  nearest  settlement,  I  hoped  to  elude  the  revengeful 
vigilance  of  my  faithless  husband,  and  escape  with  my 
child  to- a  place  of  safety  and  repose. 


190  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

"  '  Two  days  I  had  travelled  over  a  rough  and  almost 
unbroken  portion  of  the  State,  when  I  met  you  at  the 
wayside  inn.  And  then  three  days  we  were  travelling 
companions,  and  with  many  regrets  parted  beneath  the 
drooping  willows  of  Heather  ton  Avenue. 

"  '  Well,  I  arrived  at  Glen  Cottage  and  was  received 
with  many  smiles  and  pleasant  congratulations,  flatter- 
ing indeed  to  a  homeless,  friendless  wanderer. 

"  '  And  so  I  choked  back,  as  best  as  I  could,  all  my 
own  painful  emotions,  and  thankfully  laid  my  aching 
head  and  weary  limbs  once  more  beneath  the  humble 
roof  of  my  own  childhood's  home. 

"  '  The  deep  heart-rending  trials  of  the  past  through 
which  I  had  struggled .  alone,  the  long  and  tedious 
journey,  and  the  overpowering  emotions  experienced  on 
once  more  arriving  at  my  childhood's  home,  all  proved 
too  much  for  my  shattered  mind  and  frame. 

"  '  And  for  three  days  after  my  arrival,  I  lay  in  a 
sort  of  half  stupor,  half-bewildered  state  of  mind,  scarcely 
recognizing  the  faces  which  bent  over  me,  or  realizing 
aught  that  passed  around  me. 

"  '  In  those  three  days  I  had  unconsciously  divulged 
all  the  painful  events  which  I  have  here  related,  only 
much  more  minutely,  to  the  occupants  of  Glen  Cottage ; 
^nd  also  the  distressing  incidents  which  had  driven  me 
there  for  shelter  and  relief. 

"  '  When  I  had  recovered  somewhat  from  that  state 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN     A     COTTON     MILL.       191 

of  listless  bewilderment,  and  was  able  to  go  out  of  my 
room  and  sit  in  the  apartments  below,  I  noticed,  with  in- 
describable emotions,  that  a  change  had  also  come  over 
the  presiding  mistress  of  that  house. 

" '  She  was  cold,  haughty,  and  reserved,  and  finally 
announced  to  me  that  I  could  only  be  accommodated  at 
the  cottage  till  I  could  find  a  house  or  lodgings  else- 
where. "  She  felt  under  no  obligations,"  she  said,  "  to 
provide  for  me  a  home ;  because  foresooth  it  had  hap- 
pened once  to  be  in  possession  of  my  family.  If  she  acted 
upon  that  principle,"  she  continued,  "  she  should  soon 
have  her  house  full  of  vagrants,  each  with  a  claim  as  just 
and  absurd  as  my  own.  And  as  for  that,  she  might  as 
well  have  it  at  once  metamorphosed  into  a  hospital  or 
almshouse,  and  set  her  name  down  on  the  list  with  the 
sisters  of  the  '  Holy  Cross,'  with  their  cowled  monks, 
priestly  confessors,  and  all  that.  No,  no':  she  had  done 
enough  in  her  lifetime  to  aid  the  poor ;  and  now,  for 
her  part,  she  was  going  to  stop.  And  if  others  had  a 
mind  to  be  fools  enough  to  waste  their  substance  and 
sympathies  upon  such  an  unthankful,  unappreciative 
mass  of  the  olF-scourings  of  God's  creation,  they  might. 
But  for  her  part,  she  had  done  enough ;  and  had  even 
now  all  but  turned  herself  out  of  house  and  home  for 
them,  and  so  for  her  part  she  thought  it  was  time  to 
stop.  Oh,  you  needn't  be  in  such  a  hurry  as  this  to 
budge  — " 


192  EFFIE    AND    I)     OR, 

"  '  She  said,  as  I  arose  with  trembling  steps  and  almost 
pulseless  heart,  to  make  my  hasty  preparations  to  go  out 
again  into  the  wide  world,  with  naught  but  the  uplifted 
hand  of  God  to  shield  me  from  the  pending  storm-clouds 
and  the  scorching  sun-rays,  "you  can  stay  a  day  or 
two  longer,  till  you  get  pricked  up  a  little  from  your 
tiresome  jaunt.  I  haven't  said  half  that  I  want  to  say  to 
you,  for  I  feel  it  my  boUYiden  duty  to  prevail  on  you  to 
go  back  again  to  your  husband.  Only  think  what  an 
awful  thing  it  is,  in  the  sight  of  a  great  and  holy  God, 
for  a  wife  to  desert  her  home,  and  the  husband  whom 
she  has  vowed  to  love,  honor,  and  obey;  and  especially 
such  as  you,  who  have  nowhere  else  to  go,  unless  you  go 
to  the  poor-house.  Esquire  Stoneheart  said  if  many 
more  made  application  for  help,  that  we  should  have  to 
charter  a  colonization  ship,  and  send  them  away  to  the 
Pee-wee  Islands  or  the  Ahasuerus  Territory.  And  we 
should  have  to  send  some  good  missionaries  with  them, 
so  that  they  might  not  grow  up  like  the  wild  beasts,  and 
forget  who  made  them,  and  the  other  good  instructions 
which  have  been  dispensed  to  them,  like  the  crumbs  from 
the  rich  man's  table,  all  free  and  gratis.  It  will  be  a 
great  and  glorious  undertaking  ;  but  if  our  minister  and 
Esquire  Stoneheart  say  that  it  must  be  done,  then  there 
will  be  stout  hands  and  willing  hearts  to  aid  in  the  great 
enterprise.  It  will  cost  heaps  of  money  to  set  it  a-foot, 
but  then  when  it  is  done,  we  shall  get  the  worthless  un- 


SEVEN    YEARS     IN    A     COTTON     MILL.       193 

derbrush  out  from  the  highway  which  we  have  cast  up 
for  ourselves  to  walk  in.' 

" '  I  heard  no  more  of  her  heartless  harangue  ;  for 
with  mj  child,  my  little  valise,  and  my  broken  heart,  I 
left  the  threshold  of  my  native  cot,  and  wended  my  way 
with  trembling  steps  to  the  cypress  shades,  which  sighed 
their  mournful  dirges  over  the  graves  of  my  kindred, 
who.  were  peacefully  mouldering  there,  unconscious  of  all 
my  sufferings  and  utter  desolation. 

"  '  I  threw  myself  upon  my  mother's  grave,  .and 
prayed  to  God  to  take  us  —  myself  and  child  —  away 
from  this  wicked  and  heartless  world.  And  while  I 
prayed,  the  burden  of  my  grief  was  so  great  and  over- 
powering, that  I  sank  into  a  state  of  insensibility,  from 
which  the  voices  of  true  sympathy  and  kindness  which 
came  stealing  over  my  senses,  like  angel  whispers, 
aroused  me. 

"  '  Yes ;  I  had  resolved  to  remain  there  with  my  child, 
with  no  other  pillow  than  my  mother's  grave,  beneath 
the  cypress  shade,  till  God  in  mercy  should  take  us  to 
the  mansions  which  he  has  promised  us  in  the  blissful 
spirit-world.' 

" '  Well,  dear  Effie,'  said  good  Aunt  Heatherton, 
'  God  had  not  got  quite  ready  to  take  you  yet,  and  so 
he  constituted  me  hie  agent,  to  take  you  here  to  this  old 
home,  that  you  might  share  with  me  the  bounty  which 
He  has  so  amply  strewn  around  us. 

17 


194  EFFIEANDI. 

" '  This  home,  and  all  pertaining  to  it,  is  God's,  not 
mine.  It  is  onlj  intrusted  to  me  as  a  dispenser  to  the 
suffering  and  needy.  Should  I  withhold  from  them  what 
He  has  intrusted  to  my  keeping,  I  should  be  an  unfaith- 
ful servant  in  my  Master's  vineyard,  and  no  longer  wor- 
thy of  the  high  mission  intrusted  to  me. 

"  '  So,  Effie,  your  gratitude  is  not  due  to  me,  but  to 
God.  And  you  may  rest  yourself  easy  ;  for  it  shall  not 
only  be  my  home,  but  thy  home,  and  little  Charley's  too, 
until  a  better  one  is  prepared  for  you.  And  to  God  only 
will  your  obligations  be  due  for  the  prosperity  which 
may  hereafter  attend  you.' 

" '  God  be  thanked  then,'  eaid  Effie,  as  she  threw 
herself  upon  the  throbbing  bosom  o£  her  kind  benefac- 
Iress.'  God  be  thanked,  then,  for  sparing  unto  me  one 
true  bosom  to  weep  upon  ;  for  truly  light  has  burst  upon 
me,  effulgent  and  glorious,  from  out  the  dark,  impenetra- 
ble depths  of  despair.'  " 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

KATE  Stanton's  soliloquy.  —  the  world  upside  down. — go- 
ing TO  SET  A  PEG  OR  TWO  LOOSE,  TO  GIVE  THE  GREA.T 
WHEEL  A   JOG    THE    RIGHT    WAT.  —  AUNT  HEATHERTON's   FEARS 

FOR  Kate's  sanity.  —  kate  leaves  heatherton  hall. 

"  T    AROSE,  and  proceeded  softlj  to  my  chamber, 

-L  lest  I  might  disturb  the  first  gushings  of  joy 
■which  had,  perhaps  for  years,  broken  through  the  chilled 
current  of  that  lone  and  persecuted  heart. 

"'And  this,'  I  soliloquized,  as  I  threw  myself  upon 
the  soft  couch  in  my  comfortable  room,  — 

"  '  This  is  only  one  little  sketch  of  real  life,  represent- 
ing the  bigotry  and  absurdities  of  a  few,  who  fain  would 
have  it  understood  to  the  world,  that  they  lead  off,  in  the 
great  work  of  reform,  in  civilizing,  moralizing,  christian- 
izing, and  equalizing  the  whole  human  family ;  that 
through  their  great,  laudable,  and  unmistakable  efforts, 
the  deserts  shall  blossom  as  the  rose ;  the  land,  where 
broods  the  darkness  of  heathenism,  shall  beam  with  an 
effulgence  brighter  than  the  noonday  sun. 

"  '  And  the  doomed  slave,  when  the  power  of  their 


196  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

influence  reaches  him,  shall  lay  aside  his  chain  and  fet- 
ters, and  sing  and  dance  in  the  wild  ecstasy  of  his  new- 
bom  freedom. 

" '  Such  reformers  always  remind  me  of  some  poor 
souls  who  never  find  time  to  set  their  houses  in  order,  or 
to  look  after  their  own  ignorant,  ragged,  starving  ur- 
chins, because  they  are  needed  so  much  abroad. 

"  '  One  neighbor  is  going  to  have  a  quilting,  and  all 
the  town  will  be  there.  And  another  will  have  an  apple- 
paring  ;  another  a  corn  husking  ;  another  a  sewing-bee, 
to  prepare  the  fall  and  winter  clothing  for  a  whole  fam- 

" '  And  then  the  prayer-meetings  and  religious  festi- 
vals, surprise  parties  and  a  score  of  donation  parties, 
and  social  gatherings,  and  other  imperative  duties  and 
diversions  abroad,  leave  them  neither  time  nor  inclinar 
tion  to  repair  the  mischief  in  their  own  homes  which 
their  zeal  for  others  has  deprived  them. 

"  '  Thus  it  is  with  such  reformers,  and  in  fact  with  the 
whole  world,  continually  overlooking  the  duties  and 
obligations  of  home  for  something  more  remote. 

" '  Oh,  the  world  is  upside  down  entirely.  It  only 
wants  Kate  Stanton  to  set  a  peg  or  two  loose  to  give 
the  great  wheel  a  jog  the  right  way.  And  I'll  do  it  too, 
Rosa.  I've  been  taking  lessons  all  these  years  in  that 
very  important  science. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  give  lectures  on  "  The  world  as  it  is, 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      197 

and  as  it  ought  to  be."  And  there  is  nobody  can  do 
that  so  well  as  Kate  Stanton,  the  very  identical  Kate 
Stanton. 

"  '  I  have  got  a  patent  right  for  them,  just  as  much 
as  Uncle  Noah  had  for  his  old  ark  ;  and  they  defy 
competition,  just  as  much  as  did  Solomon's  Temple, 
or  the  great  bell  of  Moscow.  And  when  Kate  Stanton 
does  mount  the  stump,  won't  the  world  take  a  jog  the 
right  way  ?  And  oh,  won't  there  be  a  shaking  amongst 
the  dry  stubble  and  underbrush,  and  upper-crust  too? 
I'll  break  through  as  easily  as  an  elephant  breaks 
through  a  frog-pond.  So  you  may  be  sure  of  a  sen- 
sation then,  somewhat  resembling  that  of  an  earthquake, 
or  an  eruption  of  fire  and  brimstone  from  some 
Magdahne  mountain.' 

"  I  had  been  sitting  a  long  while  in  that  com- 
fortable easy -chair,  revolving  in  my  own  mind  the 
best  subjects  and  methods  of  adoption,  in  order  to  be 
successful  in  my  great  world  revolution,  when  my  aunt 
broke  in  with,  — 

"  '  Well,  I  declare !  dreaming  again,  and  not  a  wink 
of  sleep  ;  and  here  it  is  verging  close  upon  midnight. 

"  '  You  must  certainly  overcome  this  injurious  habit, 
child,  or  the  next  thing  I  shall  hear  of  you,  after  you 
leave  Willow  Dale,  will  be  confinement  in  a  lunatic 
asylum. 

17* 


198  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

"  '  Now  you  have  only  four  hours  for  repose  and 
breakfast,  before  the  old  stage-coach  will  come  rattling 
over  the  hills,  to  bear  you  away,  my  mad-eap  niece, 
to  your  distant  home. 

" '  It  grieves  me  to  part  with  you,  child,  but  I  know 
you  will  never  forget  your  old  aunt  of  Heatherton  Hall 
amidst  the  gay  and  exciting  scenes  of  your  city  home. 
And  remember  that  your  bridal  tour  must  be  toward 
the  rising  of  the  sun.' 

"  '  0  yes,  aunty,  I  shall  remember  all  that,  and  more 
too.  I  shall  never,  never  forget  your  kindness  to  Eflfie 
and  little  Charley  ;  and  I  know  that,  while  you  live, 
they  will  never  be  without  a  home  again. 

"  '  God  bless  you,  aunty,'  I  continued,  kissing  away 
the  tears,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  room.  '  I  shall 
never,  never  forget,  what  a  good  kind  aunt  I  have  got 
nestled  away  upon  the  rocky  coast  of  the  Pine-tree 
State.' 

"  In  a  few  hours  I  had  bade  old  Heatherton  and  its 
inmates  a  kindly  and  reluctant  adieu  ;  and  the  old  stage, 
in  which  I  was  ensconsed,  was  soon  rattling  over  the 
hills  and  through  the  wild  woods  and  clearings  of 
Maine,  in  the  direction  of  the  old  Bay  State  and  the 
busy  Spindle  City. 

"  You  remember  Helen  Mordant  and  Lotty  Elton, 
Rosa?" 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   199 

"  I  remember  them  as  the  boarders  of  Mother  Gour- 
don ;  but  knew  nothing  further  of  their  history,  than 
that  they  were  very  quiet,  intelligent,  ladylike,  and 
factory  girls,  with  the  rest  of  us. 

"  I  remember,  too,  that  some  of  the  girls  called  Helen 
'  Miss  Gentility,'  and  Lotty,  '  Miss  Delicate  Touch-me- 
not.'  They  were  both  very  pretty  and  well-educated 
girls,  and  I  think  that  sonje  reversion  of  fortune  was 
the  cause  of  their  becoming  operatives  in  a  cotton 
mill." 

"  Such  was  the  case,  Rosa.  I  had  a  better  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  acquainted  with  them  than  you  had. 

"  You  know  I  never  made  myself  a  stranger  in  any 
of  the  apartments  in  old  No.  10.  I  always  took  a 
free  pass  everywhere,  and  never  felt  myself  an  intruder 
either. 

"  And  wild  as  I  am,  Helen  and  Lotty  often  made  me 
their  confidant  and  adviser  in  many  important  matters 
connected  with  their  history  of  real  life.  After  awhile 
they  both  left  No.  10  and  the  cotton  mill  for  the 
hymenial  noose. 

"  Helen  removed  to  B ,  a   beautiful  shore  town 

in  the  vicinity  of  Portland,  and  Lotty  became  a  resident 

of  S ,  in  the  old  Granite  State,  bordering  on  the 

Massachusetts  line. 

"  Well,  their  homes  lay  directly  on  my  route  to  the 
Spindle    City,   and   I    gladly   availed    myself    of  that 


200 


EFFIE    AND    1. 


opportunity  to  spend  a  day  with  each,  and  talk  over 
the  scenes  of  '  Auld  Lang  Syne,'  and  renew  our  pledges 
of '  Friendship,  Love,  and  Truth,'  for  the  future. 

"  To-morrow  I  will  give  you  a  sketch  of  each  of  them, 
as  they  were  told  to  me,  for  I  know  that  you  will  be 
interested,  inasmuch  as  they  were  inmates  of  the  same 
home  and  cotton  mill  with  ourselves." 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Kate's   journey   to   the   spindle   city.  —  she  visits  old  as- 
sociates.  HEK   reception   AT    COL.    G 'S    COUNTRY-SEAT. 

" « rr\  0    WHOM    does   that  beautiful  mansion   be- 

JL    long,  which  seems  to  rise  in  grand  superiority 

above   the    many   handsome    buildings   around   it  ? '  I 

inquired  of  the  coachman,  as  we   leisurely  journeyed 

through  the  beautiful  town  of  B ,  bordering  on  the 

sea-coast. 

"  '  That,'  said  the  driver,  '  is  the  country-seat  of  Col. 

G ,  the  place  where,  by  your  direction,  I  am  to  leave 

you,  and  an  elegant  situation  it  is  too.  He  is  a  gentle- 
man of  great  wealth  and  respectability,  and  enjoys  a 
goodly  supply  of  happiness,  as  you  may  well  suppose. 

"  By  this  time  we  had  ridden  along  nearly  opposite' 
the  splendid  mansion,  and  there  sat  Helen,  lovely  as  ever, 
and  the  very  picture  of  happiness,  beneath  a  piazza 
shaded  by  woodbines,  caressing  a  beautiful  infant,  and 
by  her  side  sat  her  companion,  regarding  them  with  a 
look  of  tenderness,  while  a  smile  of  delight  played  over 
his  manly  brow. 


202  BFFIEANDi;     OR, 

"  '  Here,'  thought  I,  '  is  a  scene  for  a  painter,  rife 
with  joy  and  beauty.' 

"  Helen  met  me  with  open  arms,  while  a  glad  tear 
sparkled  in  the  clear  depths  of  her  beautiful  eyes ;  and 
then,  oh  how  proudly  she  presented  to  me  her  noble 
husband  and  darling  babe, 

"  '  So,'  I  said,  as  we  sat  at  eventide  in  her  richly 
furnished  parlor,  '  you  are  not  ashamed  to  continue 
acquaintanceship  with  your  old  companions  of  the  Spindle 
City.' 

"  '  Ashamed  !  Oh  no,  no,  dear  Kate.  I  thank  God 
for  the  lessons  I  learned  in  a  cotton  mill.  To  me  they 
have  been  like  the  refiner's  fire,  separating  the  true  gold 
from  the  worthless  dross  of  vaunted  friendship.  Had  I 
never  been  an  inmate  of  a  cotton  mill,  I  should  never 
have  become  the  mistress  of  this  elegant  home,  nor  the 
happy  wife  and  mother  which  you  now  find  me. 

"  '  Did  I  ever  tell  you,  Kate,  how  I  became  an  ope- 
rative ? 

" '  "Well,  then,  from  my  childhood  I  had  been  a 
dependent  upon  the  generosity  of  Dr.  Loring,  and  at 
eighteen  was  the  affianced  bride  of  his  eldest  son. 

"  '  Alonzo  being  the  eldest,  had  received  a  collegiate 
education,  and  gained  a  medical  profession. 

"  '  He  had  loved  me  from  childhood,  and  that  love 
had  grown  with  his  growth,  and  strengthened  with  his 
strength. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   203 

"  '  And  -when  far  from  home,  whether  in  the  halls  of 
literature,  or  bending  over  pages  of  classic  lore,  or 
consuming  the  midnight  oil,  he  said  that  my  spirit 
seemed  ever  present  with  him,  pointing  him  onward  to 
fame  and  honor. 

"  '  He  had  fled  from  the  gay  throng  of  beauty  and 
fashion,  and,  like  the  magnet  to  the  pole,  his  heart  turned 
true  to  the  Hght  and  joys  of  home  and  me. 

" '  His  parents   saw,  approved,  and   encouraged   the 
attachment ;  while  they  strove  to  cultivate  my  mind  for 
the  station  which  they  fondly  anticipated  I  should  fill. 
"  '  Alonzo  was  making  preparations  to  fill  a  vacancy  in 

the  beautiful  village  of  M ,  and  I  was  thinking  of 

another  enterprise. 

"  '  A  few  evenings  before  his  departure,  I  was  sitting 
in-  our  favorite  arbor,  when  he  broke  in  upon  my 
reveries,  with,  —  » 

"  '  Upon  my  word,  Helen,  I  verily  believed  you  had 
lost  your  senses,  or  that  they  had  taken  an  aerial 
flight;  for  I  have  been  standing  at  the  entrance  of 
the  arbor  a  long  time,  and  you  appeared  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  it.  Tell  me,  my  dear,  for  I  believe  that  I 
should  now  almost  claim  a  right  to  read  your  thoughts^ 
where  have  they  been  straying,  that  the  voice  of  your 
lover  and  betrothed  could  not  recall  them  ? ' 

" '  Oh,'  I  answered,  blushing,  and  raising  my  eyes 
timidly  to  his,  '  they  were  only  taking  a  little  excursion 
to  the  Spindle  City.' 


204  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

'"To  the  Spindle  Citj  !  You  surprise  me,  Helen ; 
what  is  there  within  those  huge  brick  walls,  and  the 
buzz  of  spindles,  and  clattering  of  looms  and  machinery, 
to  absorb  the  heart  and  soul  of  my  lovely  Helen  ?  I 
was  not  aware  that  any  friend  of  yours  was  confined 
within  the  precincts  of  a  facfory  yard.' 

"  '  Nor  is  there,'  I  answered  ;  '  but  you  know,  Alonzo, 
that  for  many  years  I  have  been  a  dependent  upon 
your  father's  generosity ;  and  to  you  I  am  betrothed, 
and  in  one  year  we  are  to  be  united. 

"  '  I  cannot,  after  receiving  so  many  favors  from  your 
parents,  throw  myself,  a  penniless  dependent  and  almost 
beggar,  upon  their  son,  who  has  nothing  but  his  profes- 
sion to  commence  with. 

"  '  I  am,  therefore,  resolved  to  quit,  for  the  present, 
these  rural  haunts,  these  hills  and  glens,  and  deep, 
shadowy,  wild -woods,  and,  more  than  all,  this  happy 
home,  and  the  society  of  those,  dear  as  my  life,  foi*  the 
dull  monotony  and  clamor  of  a  factory  yard.' 

"  '  Oh,  Helen ! '  he  said,  '  is  it  possible  that  you  have 
come  to  such  a  determination  ?  You,  the  graceful, 
lovely,  and  accomplished  Helen  Mordant !  Is  this  the 
use  you  would  make  of  those  rare  accomplishments,  by 
mingling  with  the  low  and  vulgar  factory  operatives,  and 
burying  your  superior  talents  in  the  earth  ?  ' 

"  '  You  mistake,  Alonzo,'  I  said.  '  It  is  an  honorable, 
or  at  least  an  honest,  vocation;  besides,  I  shall  find 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      205 

many  worthy  and  accomplished  young  ladies  there,  who 
prefer  a  factory  life  to  the  galling  chains  of  poverty  or 
dependence ;  and  many,  very  many,  go  there  from 
choice,  who  have  wealthy  parents.  So,  you  see,  that  I 
shall  not  be  at  a  loss  for  associates. 

"  '  And  as  for  my  accompUshments,  if  a  few  months 
in  a  factory  should  tarnish  them  or  diminish  their  bril- 
liancy, they  surely  cannot  be  founded  upon  the  sure 
standard  of  virtue  and  piety. 

"  '  I  know,  my  dear  Alonzo,  that  you  will  not  love 
me  the  less  for  being  separated  from  you,  although  my 
occupation  may  not  be  quite  so  congenial  to  your  feel- 
ings. 

"  '  Some,  perhaps,  may  sneer,  and  slander  may  throw 
her  poisonous  darts  at  me,  but  I  know  that  you  have  a 
muid  far  above  those  who  look  upon  honest  labor  with 
contempt.  It  is  with  the  greatest  confidence  that  I  shall 
leave  you,  Alonzo,  well  knowing  that  yours  is  a  heart 
too  noble  to  be  changed  by  the  pernicious  breath  of 
slander.'  " 

18 


CHAPTER    XXXII, 


A    FACTORY    GIRL  8    HOME. 


"  '  TT  ^  ^  ARE  a  noble  girl,'  Alonzo  said,  after 
J-  sitting  some  moments  in  a  thoughtful  mood, 
'  and  if  you  go,  never  for  once  suffer  yourself  to  think 
that  I  shall  be  untrue.  No ;  but  I  love  you  the  better 
for  the  sacrifice. 

"  '  You  will  have  my  consent  to  go,  not  for  the  gains 
of  a  few  months  of  toil,  but  to  give  you  an  opportunity 
of  raising  yourself  from  that  dependence  which,  to  a 
minql  like  yours,  I  know  is  intolerable. 

"  '  It  is  not  for  my  happiness  that  I  thus  consent  to 
part  with  you ;  but  yours,  solely  yours  ;  and,  with  the 
blessing  of  Heaven,  I  leave  you  to  your  most  excellent 
judgment,  which  I  know  will  never  misguide  you. 

"  '  May  you  ever  be  as  happy  as  you  are  good. 
Believe  me,  Helen,  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  shall  not  long 
deprive  myself  of  that  happiness  and  society  which  has, 
for  years,  been  a  day-star  to  all  the  hopes,  exertions, 
and  privations  of  the  past,  and  will  be  as  a  secret  spring 
tp  every  enterprise  of  the  future.     Take  this,'  he  con- 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      207 

tinued,  placing  a  ring  upon  mj  finger,  '  take  this,  as  a 
pledge  of  our  mutual  love  and  my  truth ;  and,  as  I 
have  told  you,  never  doubt  my  faithfulness  to  you. 
Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  if  sometimes  you  should  be 
disappointed  in  the  reception  of  a  letter  ;  for,  soon  after 
your  departure,  I  intend  to  take  up  my  residence  in 
the  little  village  which  you  have  so  often  admired  for  its 
picturesque  and  romantic  scenery;  and  the  responsibility, 
care,  and  many  perplexities  attending  a  young,  inex- 
perienced physician,  I  fear,  will  sometimes  deprive  me 
of  the  pleasure  of  communing  with  one  I  would  ever 
love  and  cherish. 

"  '  Let  us  leave  the  arbor,  and  return  home  by  the 
winding  path,  shaded  by  the  drooping  branches  of  the 
trees  we  pruned  and  cultured  when  our  young  spirits 
were  light  and  buoyant  as  air,  and  we  sported  fearless 
and  free  as  the  passing  zephyr. 

"  '  See  !  the  sun  has  long  since  sunk  behind  the  range 
of  mountains  far  to  the  west,  and  the  moon  is  already 
dipping  her  smiling  face  in  the  placid  waters  of  our 
beautiful  lake,  and  throwing  her  silvery  light  on  the 
hills  and  home  of  our  childhood.' 

"  '  Perhaps,'  I  replied,  '  when  we  again  shall  visit  this 
spot,  endeared  to  us  by  so  many  pleasing  recollections,  a 
change  may  have  passed  over  our  youthful  anticipations, 
and  like  yonder  beautiful  flower,  bent  to  the  earth  by 
the  weight  of  the  night-dews,  our  spirits  may  be  bowed 


208  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

down  and  broken  by  disappointment,  trej^cherj,  or  mis- 
fortune. 

"  *  But  we  will  leave  the  future  with  Him  who  orders 
all  things  for  the  best ;  and  while  we  trust  in  Him,  we 
shall  never  fail  to  be  happy.' 

"  '  When  a  few  weeks  more  had  passed  away,  I  was 
an  operative  in  a  cotton  mill,  and  Alonzo  had  removed 
to  his  station  in  the  beautiful  village  of  M . 


"  '  It  was  at  the  close  of  a  warm,  sultry  day  in 
August,  some  few  months  after  our  separation,  a  day 
which  had  been  one  of  great  exertion  and  care  to 
Alonzo,  that  he  had  seated  himself  by  a  window  in  his 
oflBce  to  enjoy  a  little  relaxation  from  his  arduous  task, 
and  regale  himself  with  the  cool  breezes  which  swept 
over  a  beautiful  valley  and  river  which  emerged  from  a 
deep  forest,  i  then  suddenly  hiding  itself  behind  a 
rocky  and  b      .tifully  shaded  highland. 

"  '  His  window  looked  out  upon  a  scenery  not  sur- 
passed in  New  England  for  its  beauty  and  sublimity. 

"  '  He  was  lost  in  a  deep  and  pleasant  reverie,  when 
the  post-boy  hastily  entered,  and  carelessly  tossing  a 
letter  upon  the  table,  withdrew. 

"  '  He  took  it,  and  hastily  recognized  the  handwriting 
of  his  own  and  distant  Helen. 

"  '  He  read  it  over  and  over  again,  while  each  thought 
and  sentiment  of  his  heart  beat  in  unison  with  those 
traced  in  the  little  sheet  he  held  before  him ;  and  he 
was  happy. 


SEVEN  'years  in  A  COTTON  MILL.   209 

"  '  Thus  he  sat,  fondlj  dreaming  of  a  more  propitious 
future,  when  a  strain  of  music,  soft  and  plaintive  as  the 
aeolian  harp,  arrested  his  attention. 

"  '  He  readily  perceived  from  whence  it  proceeded ; 
for  in  an  opposite  building,  by  an  open  casement,  sat  a 
being  of  surpassing  beauty. 

"  '  Her  long  dark  tresses^  which  were  slightly  agitated 
by  the  passing  zephyrs,  fell  in  luxuriance  over  a  neck 
and  shoulders  of  perfect  mould. 

"  '  Her  eyes,  dark  as  the  gazelle's,  seemed  intently 
fixed  upon  the  piece  of  music  she  was  performing, 
while  her  small  white  hands  swept  lightly  over  her  harp, 
accompanied  by  a  voice  bewitchingly  sweet  and  soft  as 
a  syren's. 

"  '  He  seemed  spell-bound  to  the  spot,  entranced  by 
the  magical  sweetness  of  her  voice  and  harp,  till  he  saw 
her  sylphlike  form  glide  gi*acefully  from  the  apart- 
ment. 

"  '  With  sensations,  which  a  short  time  before  were 
most  foreign  to  his  mind,  he  retired  to  his  lodgings,  while 
her  beautiful  figure  danced  before  his  imagination  with 
all  the  lightness  and  elasticity  of  youth,  and  her  clear, 
mellow  voice  and  song  completely  intoxicated  his  senses, 
so  that  for  once  his  Helen  and  her  recent  letter  were 
entirely  forgotten. 

"  '  Thus,  night  after  night  passed  away ;  she  artfully 
laying  her  plans  to  entrap  him,  while  he  was  imcon- 

18* 


210  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR,     ' 

sciouslj  yielding  to  her  insinuations  and  captivating 
smiles.  Angelia  lugalls  was  a  heartless  coquette,  the 
only  daughter  of  a  very  wealthy  merchant,  and  the  sole 
heir  of  his  large  estate,  and  also  possessing  a  face  and 
form  surpassingly  •beautiful. 

"  '  But  it  was  only  a  casket  that  contained  no  jewel ; 
for  through  those  dark  eyes  a  noble  intellect  and  lofty 
soul  never  emitted  its  brilliant  rays,  nor  melted  with  the 
deep  sympathetic  emotions  of  a  generous  heart. 

• "  '  She  could  smile  upon  the  gay  butterflies  of  fashion, 
the  dupes  of  her  artifices  that  swarmed  around  her,  and 
frown  upon  those  too  honest  to  flatter.  In  short,  she 
was  a  proud,  self-conceited,  vain  beauty. 

"  '  Such  was  Angelia  when  Alonzo  Loring  became  a 
resident  of  the  beautiful  village  of  M . 

" '  She  saw  him  daily  as  he  entered  his  office,  and 
was  struck  with  his  fine  figure  and  noble  deportment, 
and  was  at  once  determined  to  have  his  name  enrolled 
upon  the  list  of  her  many  admirers. 

"  '  I  shall  succeed,'  she  said,  after  spending  an  hour 
at  her  toilet,  on  the  evening  we  introduce  her.  '  I  shall 
succeed  if  my  mirror  informs  me  right,  and  I  know  it  is 
correct.  Yes,  I  shall  succeed,'  she  continued,  as  she 
tastefully  arranged  her  dark,  glossy  ringlets  oyer  her 
alabaster  brow  and  neck  of  snowy  whiteness. 

" '  Then,  with  an  air  and  expression  which  was  sure 
of  a  conquest,  she  seated  herself  by  the  open  casement, 
opposite  the  young  physician's  office.' 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   211 

"  '  And  did  she  succeed  ?  '  I  inquired,  rather  anxious 
to  know  the  result  of  her  artful  schemings. 

'"Yes/  she  answered,  'the  noble  and.  talented 
Alonzo  Loring  suffered  his  heart  to  be  led  captive  by 
a  silly  woman,  and,  within  a  few  short  months,  she 
became  his  bride. 

'"I  had  been  a  resident  of  Lowell  nearly  a  year,  and 
was  making  preparations  to  return  home,  with  the  expec- 
tation of  becoming  Alonzo's  wife,  when  one  evening  as 
I  returned  to  my  boarding-house,  old  No.  10,  rather 
more  dispirited  than  usual,  for,  notwithstanding  my  con- 
fidence in  Alonzo,  I  had  a  presentiment  that  all  was  not 
right ;  his  long  silSnce  I  could  not  attribute  to  urgent 
business. 

" '  But  on  entering  my  room,  I  found  two  letters  to 
my  address. 

" '  A  ray  of  hope  lighted  up  my  heart,  and  for  a 
moment  dispelled  my  sad  forebodings ;  but  it  was  only 
for  a  moment.  For,  on  opening  Alonzo's  letter,  I  read 
with  dismay  that  he  was  the  husband  of  another. 

" '  Forgive  me  Helen,'  the  letter  said,  '  I  have 
injured  you ;  but  I  am  not  worthy  to  possess  one  so  pure 
and  heaven-like.  You  will  be  happy,  for  you  will  have 
no  broken  vow  rankling  in  your  bosom,  and  no  dark 
deeds  of  treachery  or  inconstancy  to  throw  their  blight- 
ning  mildew  over  your  youthful  pathway.' 

" '  When  I  had  finished  this  letter,  I  arose  from  my 


212  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

seat,  and,  meekly  bowing,  committed  my  case  to  Him 
who  gives  grace  sufficient  in  every  time  of  need,  and 
strength  equal  to  our  day. 

"  '  It  was  a  deep,  deep  struggle,  but  my  mind  arose 
superior,  and  I  tore  him  from  the  shrine  of  my  heart. 

" '  I  opened  the  seal  of  the  other  letter.  This  in- 
formed me  that  my  only  sister  was  rapidly  declining 
with  consumption,  and  a  request  that  I  would  hasten  to 
see  her. 

"  '  This  announcement  aroused  all  my  energies  to 
action,  and  the  next  day  foimd  me  on  my  way  to  my 
sister's  home  in  a  distant  town. 

". '  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  emotions  of  my 
heart,  as  I  anxiously  watched  over  my  dying  sister; 
but  when  I  felt  that  death  had  severed  the  only  tie 
which  bound  me  to  earth,  the  world  seemed  to  lose  its 
charms,  and  for  once  I  wished  myself  lying  by  her  side, 
for  I  was  alone. 

" '  Time  passed  on,  and  I  had  regained  much  of  my 
former  cheerfulness ;  the  rose  again  bloomed  upon  my 
cheek,  and  smiles  chased  the  shadows  from  my  lip  and 

brow,  when  Col.  G ,  a  distant  relative  of  my  sister's 

husband,  came  to  spend  a.  few.  months  of  summer  with 
him,  for  the  benefit  of  the  pure  country  air. 
•  "  '  He  was  a  gentleman  of  great  wealth  and  respecta- 
bility, and  when  he  became  acquainted  with  me  — 
strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you  —  he  made  ardent  pro- 
fessions of  love,  and  won  me  for  his  bride. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.     213 

" '  And  here  we  live,  enjoying  a  goodly  share  of 
happiness,  as  you  may  well  suppose.'  " 

"  And  what,"  said  I,  "  has  become  of  Alonzo  ?  " 

" '  Oh,'  Helen  rephed,  '  when  at  college  he  took  a 
glass  now  and  then  with  his  jovial,  wine-drinking  com- 
panions, and  so  after*  his  marriage  he  became  intemperate. 

"  '  His  friends  who  had  patronized  him  left,  one  after 
another,  until  he  was  obliged,  by  his  embarrassed  circum- 
stances, to  leave  his  beautiful  village,  and  emigrate  to 
the  West,  where  he  still  lives,  not  the  happiest  of  men, 
cherishing  within  his  breast  the  charm  of  a  broken  vow. 

"  '  And  I  have  never  regretted  the  year  that  I  spent 
in  a  cotton  mill,  nor  the  disciphne  which  awarded  the 
true  gold  for  the  dross.' 

"  Just  then   '  the   true   gold,'   in  the   shape   of  her 

devoted   Col.    G entered,   with  his  little   crowing 

baby,  who,  with  outstretched  arms  and  coaxing  '  goo-goo,' 
nestled  its  little  dimpled  face  joyfully  within  its  mother's 
bosom. 

"  A  right  happy  day  was  that  which  I  spent-  with 
Helen,  in  her  luxurious  home,  and  not,  until  I  had 
promised  to  repeat  my  visit  the  ensuing  summer,  and 
stay  a  whole  month  with  them  at  their  country-seat,  was 
I  allowed  to  take  my  departure." 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

KATE    VISITS    LOTTY     ELTON    IN    THE     OLD    GRANITE     STATE.  —  HBB 
STORY. — MIRA    GRANBY    GOING    TO    AUNT    BOSTON'S. 

"  I  knew  by  the  smoke  that  so  gracefully  curled, 
Above  the  green  elms,  that  a  cottage  was  near ; 
And  I  said  if  there's  peace  to  be  found  in  the  world, 
A  heart  that  is  humble  might  hope  for  it  here." 

"XT  W  A  S  at  the  close  of  mj  day's  journey,  after 
J-  leaving  Helen  and  her  luxurious  home,  that  the 
old  stage-coach  gained  the  summit  of  a  hill  from  which 
I  had  a  view  of  the  romantic  residence  of  my  old  friend 
of  the  Spindle  City,  Lotty  Elton. 

"It  was  a  white  cottage,  almost  concealed  by  the 
clustering  vine  and  tall,  sweeping  elms  which  sur- 
rounded and  overshadowed  it.  At  a  little  distance  in 
the  background,  a  broad  stream  meandered  along  its 
rocky  bank,  and  further  in  was  the  broad,  deep,  shadowy 
forest,  tinged  with  all  the  variegated  beauty  of  early 
autumn. 

"  The  keen  bracing  air  which  swept  over  the  towering 
heights  of  the  old  Granite  State,  imparted  to  the  weary 
travellers  a  buoyancy  of  spirit  and  a  deeper  glow  to  the 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      215 

healthful  cheek,  which  made  the  appearance  of  a  cheer- 
ful fire  and  comfortably-furnished  parlor  a  desirable 
treat. 

"  '  And  surelj,'  I  thought,  '  a  heart  not  quite  so  hum- 
ble might  hope  for  happiness  here ;  and,  I  doubt  not, 
that  the  inmates  of  that  romantic  cottage  enjoj  it  to 
perfection.' 

"  Well,  while  the  jaded  horses  are  ambling  wearily 
along  over  the  rocky  road  which  lay  between  us  and 
that  vine-embowered  cottage,  I  will  just  give  you  a  little 
sketch  of  its  mistress,  Lotty  Elton. 

"  Lotty  Elton's  father  was  a  merchant  of  some  con- 
siderable note  and  respectabihty,  although  he  had  ever 
resided  in  the  old  ancestral  home,  which  had  submitted 
to  many  improvements  and  enlargements  since  the  days 
of  his  grandfather. 

"  Yet  the  '  moss-covered  bucket '  still  remained  sus- 
pended in  the  well  as  in  days  of  yore,  and  the  tall, 
gigantic  elm,  which  had  stood  nearly  a  century,  still 
shaded  the  front  door  with  its  thick  and  verdant  fohage  ; 
and  far  away  —  in  front  of  the  house  —  lay  a  beautiful 
lawn,  around  which  a  sunny  rivulet  meandered,  shaded 
by  trees  of  various  size  an(i  form. 

"  While  along  the  western  horizon  the  White  Moun- 
tains of  New  Hampshire  arose  with  grand  and  imposing 
majesty. 

"  And  even  the  dense   and  shadowy  forest,  gently 


216  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

bowing  to  the  summer's  breeze,  was  not  the  least  to  give 
interest  and  beauty  to  a  place  so  enchantingly  lovely 
and  romantic  as  that  which  surrounded  the  home  of  the 
Eltons. 

"  It  was  here  that  Lotty  first  breathed  the  pure  air 
of  heaven,  and  felt  its  balmy  breath  fanning  her  innocent 
and  childish  brow. 

"  It  was  here  she  first  sported  with  the  opening  buds 
of  spring,  and  culled,  with  her  tiny  fingers,  the  gaudy 
flowers  of  summer. 

"  It  was  here  she  learned  the  purity  and  worth  of 
parental  affection,  the  fond  and  sacred  ties  of  '  Home, 
sweet  home.' 

"  It  was  here  that  sixteen  summers  of  her  sunny  life 
had  been  spent,  without  even  one  cloud  of  sorrow  to 
obscure  its  brilliancy  ;  and  the  future  seemed  to  arise 
before  her  as  bright  and  flowery  as  the  past  had  been. 

"  Lotty  was  beautiful,  very  beautiful,  with  a  lithe  and 
graceful  figure,  a  proud  and  beaming  eye  of  the  deepest 
blue,  and  an  air  of  dignity  and  refinement,  scarcely,  if 
ever,  excelled  by  those  of  maturer  years. 

"  Her  hair  was  of  that  bright,  golden  hue,  which  poets 
have  celebrated  in  song,  shading  a  neck  and  brow  of 
transparent  whiteness. 

"  But  these  were  not  the  richest  and  loveliest  of 
Heaven's  gifts  to  Lotty ;  for  she  possessed  a  confiding, 
sensitive,  and  affectionate  heart,  a  sweetness  and  amia- 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      217 

bility  of  disposition  which  plainly  bespoke  the  innocence 
and  purity  of  her  young  and  tender  mind. 

"  At  sixteen  she  was  sent  to  a  neighboring  town  to 
finish  the  education  upon  which  as  yet  no  pains  or 
expense  had  been  withheld,  in  order  to  make  her  an 
accomplished  lady,  and  fit  her  for  usefulness  in  the 
world. 

"  But  ere  one  term  of  those  happy  school-days  had 
passed  away,  she  was  hurriedly  summoned  to  attend 
the  last  hours  of  a  dying  mother. 

"  Death  is  everywhere  an  unbidden  and  unwelcome 
guest.  He  enters  alike,  uncalled  for,  the  hermit's  hut 
and  the  princely  palace.  Emperors  and  nobles j  with, 
the  obscure  cottagers,  bow  before  the  desolating  and 
powerful  influence.  Cities  and  towns,  from  the  cold, 
frozen  mountains  of  Greenland,  to  the  soft,  balmy,  and 
fertile  plains  of  India,  are  laid  waste  by  his  destroying 
arm,  and  submit  to  his  relentless  mandate ;  and  who 
dare  bid  defiance  to  his  grim,  unearthly  visage  ? 

"  One  year  made  direful  changes  within  the  walls  of 
that  old  mansion,  for  death  had  been  busy  there,  and 
all  that  Lotty  had  clung  to  in  life  had  been  made  its 
victims.  V 

"  And  the  world  to  her,  full  of  life  and  activity  as  it 
was,  appeared  a  worthless  blank ;  its  bright  and  glowing 
charms  faded  before  her ;  and  even  hope,  with  her  flat- 
tering  smile   and  delusive  whisperings,  could  not  find 

19 


218  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

a  resting-place  within  her  desolate  and  sorrow-stricken 
bosom. 

"  After  Mr.  Elton's  death,  it  appeared  that  his  estate 
was  in  a  very  embarrassed  situation,  and  his  partners  in 
business  skilfully  managed  to  secure  the  little  that  re- 
mained after  the  demands  of  the  creditors  had  been 
supplied. 

"  Lotty  had  been  delicately  and  aflfectionately  nurtured 
in  the  lap  of  indulgence,  and  care  and  toil  had  never 
imposed  themselves  upon  her  youthful  pathway. 

"  Now  she  was  penniless.  Young  and  inexperienced 
as  she  was,  she  must  be  cast  upon  the  mercies  of  a 
cold-hearted  and  relentless  world.  Her  heart  died 
within  her,  as  a  sense  of  her  present  lonely  and  defence- 
less situation  came  up  before  her. 

"  She  looked  back  upon  the  past,  but  tears  and 
despondency  were  all  that  remained  as  a  tribute  to  its 
receding  joys. 

" '  And  what  can  I  do  ? '  she  asked  herself,  while 
the  storm  of  conflicting  emotions  raged  wildly  within  her 
gentle  bosom. 

"  '  La !  why  don't  you  go  to  the  factory,  Lotty  ? ' 
said  Mira  Grandby,  the  former  associate  and  almost 
constant  companion  of  Lotty  Elton  in  her  happier  and 
more  prosperous  days.  '  Go  to  the  factory,  Lotty,  that 
is  just  the  place  for  such  girls  as  you ;  and  there's  lots 
of  them  there,  I  can  tell  you. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.     219 

"  '  I  thought  of  going  there  mjself,  if  my  father  is 
Esquire  Grandby,  just  to  get  me  some  fine  clothes,  and 
such  like,  for  my  bridal  gear;  but  I've  given  it  up  now. 
Aunt  Boston  has  sent  for  me,  and  says  she  wants  to 
bring  me  out,  because  I'm  handsome  and  attractive, 
and  all  that.  And  so  I've  given  up  Frank  Deyton  too, 
because  my  aunt  says,  that  she  is  going  to  get  me  a 
husband  that  don't  make  his  dehut  into  the  world  and 
society  in  general  every  day. 

"  '  Aunt  Boston  is  one  of  the  aristocrats,  and  she 
knows  a  thing  or  two.  And  I'm  going  just  as  soon  as 
I  can  get  re^dy,  and  Frank  Deyton  may  go  to  grass, 
unless  —  you — well  there,'  she  said,  laughing  outright, 
I  never  thought  of  it  hefore  ;  but,  Lotty,  he  would  be 
a  capital  match  for  you,  and  I  will  tell  him  so. 

"  '  If  you  should  go  to  the  factory,  you  might  go 
when  I  do ;  for  Aunt  Boston  doesn't  live  thirty  miles 
from  the  Spindle  City.  But  then  I  should  have  to  cut 
you  there,  for  it  would  never  do  to  let  aunt  know  that  I 
was  acquainted  with  a  factory  girl. 

"  '  But  I  will  write  to  you  once,  only  I  shan't  let 
aunt  know  it,  just  to  let  you  know  how  aristocracy  and 
I  get  along  at  Aunt  Boston's. 

"  '  My  aunt's  proposals  are  very  flattering,  don't  you 
think  so,  Lotty  ?  Pshaw,  I  shall  give  up  Frank  and 
every  thing  else  connected  with  my  rustic  home,  without 
much  regret.' " 


CHAPTER    XXXIV . 

MIRA   GRANDBY's   VISIT    AT    AUNT    BOSTON'S,    AND   WHAT    CAME 
OP   IT. 

" ^ rP\ HIS  IS  a  little  paradise,  Lotty,  and  you  are 
J-  a  little  witching  waif,  flitting  here  and  there 
and  everywhere,  like  a  dancing  sunbeam^  and  I  every 
moment  expecting  that  you  will  disappear  altogether, 
and  leave  me  in  the  shadow  of  doubt  and- perplexity 
respecting  Mira  Grandby's  visit  to  her  Aunt  Boston,  and 
what  came  of  it.' 

" '  No,  no,  dear  Kate  ;  wait  just  one  moment  longer, 
till  I  get  little  Frank  and  Willie  nicely  adjusted  in  their 
little  trundle-bed,  and  the  baby  tucked  up  warm  and 
comfortable  in  his  soft,  cosy  crib,  and  give  Jane  the 
necessary  instructions,  in  preparing  a  nice  warm  supper 
for  dear  Frank  when  he  returns  from  his  long  ride  up 
the  river,  and  one  or  two  more  tit-bits  of  housewifery, 
and  then,  Kate ' 

"  In  a  few  moments  she  bounded  girlishly  into  the 
room,  and  taking  a  seat  upon  the  sofa  by  my  side,  com- 
menced : 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      221 

"  '  Frank  had  loved  Mira  Grandby  devotedly  and  truly, 
and  when  the  truth  of  her  heartless  coquetry  flashed 
upon  his  mind,  with  unmistakable  force,  it  wellnigh 
seemed  to  unman  him.* 

" '  But  without  a  word  of  remonstrance  he  left  her, 
and  followed  a  little  footpath  along  the  river's  bank,  in 
the  direction  of  his  cottage  homq.  He  gained  a  favorite 
moss-covered  seat,  constructed  by  the  rude  hand  of 
nature,  and,  burying  his  face  in  his  labor-soiled  palm,  he 
wept.     Yes,  the  strong  man  wept. 

"  '  In  a  moment,  as  if  by  some  sudden  impulse,  he 
started  up ;  his  cheek  was  flushed,  the  full  veins  were 
almost  bursting. through  the  throbbing  temples,  and  the 
swollen  eyes  were  wet  with  bitter  tears.' 

"  '  I  see  how  it  is,'  he  exclaimed.  '  I  am  poor,  and 
she  a  votary  of  fashion  and  wealth ;  but  she  shall  re- 
pent it.' 

"  '  And  there,  beneath  the  broad  and  high-arched 
canopy  of  heaven,  with  the  bright  flowing  river  at  his 
feet,  and  around  him  the  soft,  ravishing  smiles  of  the 
silvery  moonbeams,  he  formed  a  high  and  holy  resolve. 

"  '  Begone  every  remembrance  of  the  past,'  he  said, 
with  an  energy  that  only  those  of  a  great  soul  can 
command,  as  he  brushed  from  his  cheek  and  brow  every 
trace  of  bitterness  and  tears. 

"  '  These  tears,'  he  said  to  himself,  '  are  the  offspring 
of  weakness,  and  ill  become  a  man  of  high  resolves. 
19* 


222  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

She  is  not  worthy  of  them ;  no,  the  woman  who  will 
sacrifice  her  own  and  others'  happiness  for  wealth,  is  not 
worthy  a  tear  of  regret. 

"  '  I  will  forget  her,  at  least  so  far  as  never  again 
to  bestow  upon  her  the  purest  offerings  of  my  youthful 
love.' 

"  '  From  that  hour  Frank  Deyton  was  another  man. 
Decision  was  stamped  upon  every  feature,  and  "  ad- 
vancement and  perseverance "  was  his  motto,  while 
fame  seemed  already  reaching  forth  to  raise  him  to  her 
high  and  honored  pinnacle. 

"  '  I  went  to  Lowell,  and  with  a  thankful  heart  com- 
menced the  honest  and  pleasant  labors  of  an  operative  in 
a  cotton  mill ;  but  before  one  year  had  passed  away,  in 
that  pleasant  occupation,  I  had  pledged  my  heart  and 
hand  to  .the  discarded  of  Mira  Grandby. 

"  '  But  here  is  her  letter  ;  you  know  that  she  promised 
to  write  me  once,  and  here  it  is.  It  is  so  characteristic 
of  its  inventor,  that  I  have  carefully  preserved  it.'  " 

"  Dear  Lotty,  —  You,  surrounded  by  a  city  of 
spindles  and  cotton  bags,  can  scarcely  imagine  the 
pleasures  and  gayeties  of  genteel  city  life.  Sailing, 
riding,  promenading,  parties,  balls,  and  operas,  crowding 
upon  each  other  in  rapid  succession. 

It  is  a  continual  routine  of  gayety ;  even  my  aunt  of 
forty  receives  the  admiration  of  the  gay  world  as  much 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      223 

as  the  maid  of  eighteen.  I  am  ever  by  her  side,  and 
you  must  suppose  that  my  vanity  is  sometimes  very 
much  flattered,  on  entering  a  crowded  hall,  to  hear  my 
name  pronounced  with  emphasis  by  some  smart,  dashing 
gaUant,  or  distinguished  gentleman. 

I  often  fancy  that  I  see  envy  lurking  beneath  many  a 
long  silken  lash  of  the  beautiful  elite  on  my  approach ; 
for  they  call  me  beautiful,  notwithstanding  my  aunt 
greatly  annoys  me,  by  sometimes  introducing  me  as  her 
husband's  niece  from  the  country. 

Oh !  the  dull,  uncouth,  country  life  !  I  am  almost 
ashamed  of  its  being  the  place  of  my  birth  and  child- 
hood ;  although,  in  cooler  moments,  I  do  look  back  upon 
the  innocent  sports  and  pleasures  with  something  like 
regret,  that  I  was  ever  induced  to  leave  them  by  a 
selfish  and  calculating  aunt. 

I  do  beUeve,  Lotty,  that  she  was  selfish  in  taking  me 
into  her  family ;  for  1  have  learned,  by  accident,  that 
they  are  in  straitened  circumstances,  and  with  my  assist- 
ance they  are  enabled  to  dispense  with  one  servant, 
and  thereby  the  more  securely  keep  up  appearances. 
My  aunt  often  keeps  me  whole  mornings  engaged  in  the 
cook-room,  under  the  false  pretence  that  it  is  what  every 
young  lady  should  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with. 

But  I  learned  that  accomplisHnent,  long  ago,  in  my 
own  mother's  kitchen,  and  it  is  because  I  have  learned 
it  so  well,  that  I  must  be  kept  in  servitude  during  long 


224  EFFIE    AND     i;     OR, 

mornings,  when  I  would  rather  be  promenading  the 
principal  streets,  or  making  pleasant  calls  upon  some  of 
the  accomplished  ladies  of  my  acquaintance. 

If  my  aunt  discovers  any  thing  like  discontent  upon 
my  brow,  she  is  always  near  to  praise  me  for  my  superi- 
or beauty  and  improved  appearance  ;  and  her  great  tact 
at  playing  the  agreeable  soon  drives  every  unhappy 
sensation  from  my  breast. 

She  well  repays  the  privations  of  the  morning,  by 
taking  me  to  some  scene  of  gayety  and  amusement  in 
the  evening. 

Proposals  for  my  hand  as  yet  have  been  rather  limited, 
although  T  have  many  admirers.  Only  one  has  pro- 
posed for  my  hand,  and  he  is  a  wealthy  foreigner  of 
noble  descent.  You  would  think  he  was  a  millionaire, 
from  the  splendid  appearance  he  makes  in  the  world  of 
fashion. 

I  have  not  made  up  my  mind  to  accept  him,  for  I 
must  confess  that  he  is  ugly  looking,  although  his  great 
wealth  is  a  very  prominent  feature  of  beauty  to  be  sure. 
It  is  whispered  that  he  is  dissipated,  but  that  I  think  is 
not  true,  further  than  is  every  young  man  of  fashion. 
He  seems  quite  a  ladies'  man,  and  well  designed  to  please. 
My  aunt  is  rather  inclined  to  think  I  had  better  accept 
his  proposals,  from  sel^ehness  I  dare  say,  but  I  care  not 
what  her  motives  may  be ;  if  she  will  only  secure  to  me 
a  splendid  alliance,  I  will  take  care  of  the  result. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      225 

By  the  way,  I  will  just  inquire  after  my  old  gallant, 
Frank  Deyton ;  I  almost  blush  when  I  compare  him 
with  the  accomplished  and  pleasing  admirers  who  throng 
around  me.  I  have  not  heard  a  word  from  him  since  I 
left  my  country  home  ;  poor  fellow,  I  suppose  he  is  quite 
inconsolable,  for  I  think  that  he  did  love  me  truly  and 
ardently. 

Do  offer  him  a  little  of  your  sweet  condolence,  Lotty. 
I  did  not  make  him  an  offer  of  your  hand,  as  I  intended, 
from  the  fact  that  I  never  got  a  sight  at  him,  after  I 
gave  him  the  mitten.  But  here  comes  my  beau  elect, 
in  his  dashing  carriage  ;  so,  after  having  nearly  filled  my 
sheet,  without  saying  half  that  I  wish  to,  I  must  close 
abruptly,  wishing  you  a  happy  union  with  some  one  of 
the  honest  backwoodsmen. 

MIRA  GRANDBY." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

LOTTt'S   letter   to   MIRA   GRANDBY.  —  HEB    VINDICATION   OF 
FACTOET   GIRLS. 

" '  T  T  IS  enough,'  I  said,  as  I  hastily  refolded  the 
J-  cold  and  heartless  letter  from  one  who,  from 
childhood,  had  been  my  friend  and  confidant.  Enough 
to  show  me  the  contaminating  influence  of  a  life  of  gayety 
and  vain  amusements,  where  the  soul  is  void  of  lofty 
principle,  and  the  heart  of  holy  emotions.  Enough  to 
show  me  a  mind  incapable  of  appreciating  the  warm, 
pure,  and  generous  aflfections  of  an  honest  and  noble 
heart. 

"  '  How  art  thou  fallen,  Mira,  friend  of  other  days,  from 
the  high  standard  upon  which  my  affections  had  placed 
thee ! 

" '  I  will  yet  make  one  effort  to  recall  thee,  I  said, 
and  heaven  grant  that  it  may  prove  effectual.  And, 
taking  a  pen,  I  hastily  wrote  a  few  lines ;  bu.t  you  will 
excuse  me,  Katy  dear,  if  I  don't  expose  it  to  your  criti- 
cism, she  said,  as  she  made  a  sly  movement  to  conceal  a 
mysterious  looking  package  under  her  apron. 


SEVEN  TEAKS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   227 

"  '  Not  a  bit  of  it  Lotty  ;  I  never  excuse  any  thing  but 
the  toothache  and  the  doctor's  bill ;  so,  like  a  wise 
judge  as  I  am,  I  must  h«ar  both  sides  of  the  matter  to 
understand  the  case  perfectly  ;  so  let  that  little  myste- 
rious package  display  itself  to  the  public  once  in  a  life- 
time.' 

" '  Well,  Katy,  here  it  is,  for  better  or  for  worse,' 
she  said,  as  she  reluctantly  commenced." 

"  Friend  Mira,  — For  such  I  would  still  deem  thee, 
although  by  your  recent  letter,  I  perceive  that  a  change 
has  come  over  the  friend  of  my  early 'youth. 

If  the  pleasures  and  gayeties  of  a  city  life,  which  you 
say  I  can  scarcely  imagine,  ensconced  away  in  this  City 
of  Spindles  and  cotton  bags,  have  wrought  this  direful 
change  in  you,  I  must  say  that  they  are  contaminating 
indeed.  Contrast  for  a  moment  the  pure,  innocent, 
elevated  joys  of  an  unaspiring,  unassuming  factory  girl, 
who  rises  in  the  early  morn,  tuning  her  cheerful  lays 
with  the  earliest  matins  of  the  lark,  as  she  trips  lightly  to 
her  task,  called  by  the  merry  chiming  of  the  factory 
bells,  inhaling  the  first  fragrant  breath  of  dewy  morn 
from  shrub  and  flower,  with  the  flush  of  health  on  her 
cheek,  and  the  light  of  vigor  and  buoyancy  of  spirit  in 
the  eye,  contentment  and  tranquillity  in  the  heart. 

Contrast  her  for  a  moment  with  the  reigning  city 
belle,  who  spends  her  nights  in  a  round  of  gayety  and 


228  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

amusements,  seeking  for  admiration,  aspiring  after  the 
wealth  and  applause  of  the  world,  sleeping  away  a  glori- 
ous summer  mom,  until  the  downy  pillow  has  become  a 
weariness,  and  then,  pale  and  languid,  arises  only  to 
prepare  for  another  scene  of  amusement  and  dissipation. 

Think  you  not,  Mira,  that  the  pleasures  of  the 
factory  girl,  or  the  retired  country  girl,  are  by  far  more 
elevated  and  pure  than  those  which  pervade  the  breast  of 
the  vain  votary  of  fashion  and  admiration  ?  From-  your 
own  experience  of  country  life,  you  can  answer. 

Reflect  soberly  and  candidly.  Leave  a  vain,  con- 
ceited, artful,  and  selfish  aunt,  and  return  once  more  to 
the  home  of  your  childhood,  to  the  scenes  of  earUer 
days. 

Seek  a  father's  protecting  mansion,  a  mother's  kind 
guidance ;  for  no  selfish,  designing  plots,  find  a  resting- 
place  in  a  mother's  heart,  but  love,  pure  and  holy,  such 
as  fills  the  breasts  of  angels. 

There,  around  your  own  native  home,  all  nature  is 
spread  out  to  please  the  eye  of  man,  and  satisfy  in  some 
degree  his  noble  aspirations. 

There  the  broad  fields  are  waving  with  the  rich, 
golden  harvest,  and  the  deep,  shadowy  woodlands  are 
just  beginning  to  put  on  their  robes  of  variegated  beauty  ; 
and  their  summer  songsters  are  chanting  their  farewell 
lays,  ere  they  take  their  departure  for  the  fragrant 
bowers  and  balmy  air  of  a  southern  shore. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   229 

Then,  like  those  wandering  songsters,  Mira,. return 
to  thy  more  congenial  home,  a  Ifome  which  will  protect 
thee  from  the  cold,  withering  blight  of  an  artful  and 
designing  world.  A  home  which  will  shield  thee  from 
the  vile  slanderer's  poisonous  tongue,  which  has  Wotted 
out  the  fair  fame  of  many  as  innocent,  virtuous,  and 
lovely  as  thyself;  a  home  which  shall  be  as  a  strong 
battlement  from  the  tempter's  wiles  and  the  flatterer's 
bland  and  deceitful  smiles. 

Return  again  to  thy  home,  and  when  one,  all  worthy 
of  thy  heart  and  hand,  shall  lay  before  thee  the  richest, 
purest  offerings  of  a  disinterested  love,  turn  not  away 
with  contemptuous  scorn ;  for  remember,  it  must  be  the 
purest  and  most  devoted  love  which  can  make  thy 
husband  a  blessing,  and  thy  fireside  the  seat  of  happi- 
ness and  contentment. 

But  all  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  combined  with  the 
honors  and  applause  of  the  world,  can  never  secure  to 
thee  a  life  of  tranquillity  and  happiness,"  if  he,  whom  thou 
shouldst  vow  to  love  and  obey,  should  prove  the  revei*se 
of  tenderness  and  affection. 

Then  seek  in  a  companion  for  life  a  man  of  worth ;  not 
the  worth  of  dollars  and  cents  and  broad  domains,  but 
the  worth  of  the  mind  and  soul ;  a  man  of  ennobling 
virtues,  from  whose  heart  flow  undisguised  the  purest 
emotions  of  a  disinterested  love.     One  who  will  respect 

2» 


'  230  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

thy  purity,  -who  will  appreciate  thy  virtues,  thy  society, 
thy  love,  for  thyself  alOne. 

Then  give  to  such  an  one,  Mira,  your  hand,  your 
heart,  your  confidence,  your  all ;  for  there  you  may  be 
assured  that  your  peace,  your  happiness,  your  respecta- 
bility are  safe. 

Seek  not  thus  earnestly  the  vain,  unmeaning  admi- 
ration of  the  world,  for  it  vanishes  like  the  vapory  cloud 
before  the  scorching  rays  of  a  noonday  sun. 

Desire  not  the  shining  wealth  of  earth,  for  it  flies 
away  like  the  mountain  mist  before  a  sunny  morn. 

Then  seek  those  more  endurable  riches,  an  inheri- 
tance in  the  skies,  a  crown  of  glory.  Seek  earnestly, 
unceasingly,  that  better  part  which  shall  never  be  taken 
away  from  you,  and  that  friend  who  never,  no,  never 
forsakes ;  and  great  will  be  your  happiness  on  earth, 
and  greater  your  reward  in  heaven. 

You  requested  me  to  write  you  something  concern- 
ing Frank  Deyton.  You  well  know  that  he  had  acquired 
a  superior  business  education,  and,  since  you  left  home, 
he  has  spent  one  term  at  our  well-disciplined  seminary, 
and  now  is  a  student  at  the  Theological  Institution  in 
A — —,  a  few  miles  distant  from  this  City  of  Spindles 
and  cotton  bags.  And  so  far  is  he  from  being  inconsol- 
able, that  he  is  pursuing  his, studies  with  great,  spirit  and 
perseverance,  and  I  presume  that  at  some  future  day 
you  will  hear  from  him  again ;  for,  as  I  have  previously 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   231 

told  you,  he  bids  fair  to  become  a  great  and  distin- 
guished man. 

So  far  as  it  regards  myself,  I  will  say  that  I  have 
not  formed  an  alliance  with  any  one  as  yet;  for  I  think 
it  a  subject  which  requires  great  dehberation. 

It  is  a  vow  which  seals  to  every  one  a  life  of  misery 
or  happiness ;  although  I  should  think  it  an  honor  to 
bestow  my  hand  and  heart  upon  an  honest  backwoods- 
man, who  has  been  free  from  the  temptations  and  vices 
which  so  often  cross  the  path  of  a  youth  of  wealth  and 
fashion  in  a  gay  city. 

You  may  think  that  I  have  been  rather  explicit,  but 
I  dared  not  be  otherwise,  when  I  consider  the  happiness, 
the  reputation,  the  all,  was  at  stake  of  her  whom  I  have 

ever  considered  a  friend  and  confidant. 

LOTTY. 
M Corporation,  No.  10." 


.CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

MIRA   GKANDBY    M'EDS   AN    ARISTOCRAT. — HE     PROVES  A   GAMBLER 
AND   SPENDTHRIFT.  —  AT    LAST    DESERTS    HER. 

««rpHAT  IS  just  like  Lotty  Elton,'  said  Mira, 
A  as  she  carelessly  threw  aside  the  letter,  and 
resumed  her  languid,  reclining  position  upon  the  sofa. 

"  '  I  might  have  expected  the  same  from  her.  She  is 
always  preaching  up  purity,  morality,  and  love  in  a 
cottage,  and  I  half  suspect  that  she  is  envious  of  the 
.'good  fortune  my  beauty  and  accomplishments  are  likely 
to  win. 

"  '  But  I  will  not  be  duped  by  her ;  I'm  for  a  life  of 
happiness  in  a  splendid  alliance.  What  is  all  her  love 
worth,  her  tenderness  and  affection  in  retired  poverty, 
compared  with  the  gayeties  and  amusements  of  a  fash- 
ionable world. 

"  '  Just  as  if  Mira  Grandby  would  return  again  to  the 
dull  monotony  of  a  country  life,  and  be  happy  with  some 
promising  sprout  of  the  bush.  A  fig  for  your  preaching, 
Lotty,  I  go  for  admiration  and  wealth.' 

"  And  away  she  flew  with  a  heart  intoxicated  with 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      233 

the  bright  anticipations  of  the  future.  It  was  a  glorious 
evening,  exquisite  and  lovely,  although  not  half  its 
beauties  could  be  seen  or  felt  or  appreciated  by  the 
inhabitants  of  a  crowded  city. 

"  Neither  could  the  bright  glances  of  the  silvery 
moonbeams  throw  their  light  and  charms  over  the  broad 
paved  streets,  unless  riding  high  in  the  zenith  ;  and  even 
then  had  those  mild  rays  found  admittance  into  one  of 
the  fashionable  streets  where  '  Aunt  Boston '  resided, 
they  would  have  been  dimmed  by  the  bright  flood  of 
light  which  streamed  far  and  wide  through  the  richly 
stained  glass  of  her  imposing  mansion. 

"  Visitors,  such  as  compose  the  elite  of  the  eity,  were 
thronging  around  its  massive  portals,  and  admitted  in 
princely  style  into  the  spacious  halls  and  drawing-rooms 
so  gorgeously  illuminated. 

"  Mira  was  there,  the  gayest  of  the  gay  ;  and  her  cup 
of  bliss  seemed  wellnigh  filled  to  overflowing.  For  on 
this  eve  she  was  to  become  the  bride  of  the  distinguished 
foreigner. 

"  Many  were  the  congratulations  bestowed  upon  the 
fair  and  happy  bride  ;  and  she  was  indeed  beautiful,  as 
she  stood  with  a  form  erect,  and  of  the  most  perfect 
symmetry,  before  the  hymenial  altar,  enveloped  in  the 
rich  folds  of  white  satin,  her  clear  white  brow  placid  as  a 
summer's  sky,  and  her  full  dark  eye  danced  with  witch- 
ing and  wild  delight. 

20* 


234  EFFIEANDi;     OR, 

"  Week  after  week  passed  awaj,  and  still  the  door 
of  the  princelj  mansion,  over  which  Mira  presided,  was 
thrown  open  to  admit  the  gay  and  fashionable  votaries  of 
pleasure.  Mira  was  happy,  for  her  full  heart  drank  in 
all  that  it  had  fondly  anticipated. 

"  She  had  never  stopped  to  study  the  character,  the 
principles,  or  the  demeanor  of  her  companion  ;  for  these 
were  out  of  the  question,  so  long  as  flatterers  and  ad- 
mirers gathered  around  her,  and  wealth  strewed  her 
pathway  with  happiness  almost  unrivalled. 

"  But  the  honey-moon  soon  gained  its  zenith,  and 
then  came  the  cold,  cold  waning ;  for  her  health  would 
not  admit  of  a  continuance  in  the  gayeties  and  amuse- 
ments which  she  had  so  eagerly  sought,  although  her 
husband  continued  them  with  all  the  ardor  and  fondness 
of  other  days. 

"  His  wife  was  not  by  his  side,  but  what  mattered 
that  ?  there  were  others,  as  beautiful  and  gay  as  herself, 
to  be  his  companion  in  the  waltz  and  in  many  other 
amusements  of  whole  evenings,  sometimes  almost  for- 
getful of  the  wife  at  home. 

"  Frequently  had  he  spent  whole  nights  abroad,  until 
the  morning's  dawn  ;  and  then,  with  flushed  cheek  and 
unsteady  step,  would  he  return  to  the  home  of  splendor, 
where  discontent  and  uncertainty  sat  brooding  over  the 
enfeebled  mind  of  his  still  beautiful  wife. 

"  She  was  formed  for  admiration,  and  this  cold  neglect 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   235 

from  one  who  should  have  been  most  assiduous  in  his 
attentions,  was  aggravating,  in  the  extreme,  to  one  whose 
sole  happiness  consisted  in  the  amusements  and  gayeties 
of  life,  and  the  admiration  and  applause  of  men. 

"  Oft  when  alone,  and  that  was  not  seldom,  did  Mira 
wander  through  the  spacious  rooms  of  her  splendid  man- 
sion, where  art  and  genius  of  ancient  and  modem 
designs  had  placed  their  choicest  signets ;  where 
wealth  and  splendor  seemed  lavishingly  to  unfold  their 
treasures. 

"  Her  eyes  would  wander  from  one  costly  article 
of  furniture  to  another,  or  rest  upon  some  rare,  mag- 
nificent decoration,  and  her  heart  would  whisper, 
'  they  are  mine,'  but  their  beauty,  their  splendor  and 
magnificence,  filled  not  the  void  within,  but  rather 
seemed  to  mock  the  anguish  of  her  lonely  feelings. 

"  And  then  she  would  weep,  even  in  the  midst  of 
wealth  and  magnificence,  w^ere  she  supposed  that  tears 
and  loneliness  could  never  find  an  entrance. 

"  Sometimes  she  would  look  back  upon  the  days  of 
her  childhood,  so  peacefully  and  tranquilly  spent  in  the  ' 
retirement  of  the  country  ;  and  then  she  would  recall  to 
mind  the  worthy  youth  she  had  slighted  and  scorned, 
and  her  own  just  and  merited  retribution. 

"  Sometimes  my  friendly  advice  would  flit  across  her 
memory,  but  it  only  added  sorrow  to  anguish,  for  she 
had  learned,  by  painful  and  bitter  experience,  that  wealth 


236  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

is  onlj  a  phantom  when  compared    with  the  pure  and 
devoted  love  of  a  husband. 

"  Without  it,  although  she  was  surrounded  by  every- 
thing to  please  the  eye  and  satisfy  her  vain  aspirings, 
she  was  miserable,  unhappy,  and  unblest.     Then  came 
.  her  hours  of  repentance,  and  a  desire  to  live  over  again 
the  happiness  of  the  past. 

"  Mira  never  again  mingled  with  her  former  vanity 
and  fondness  in  the  gay  world",  since  she  beheld  her 
husband  in  his  true  light ;  for,  to  her  eye  and  to  the 
world,  the  true  characteristics  of  his  nature  seemed  fully 
and  fearfully  developed. 

"He  was  a  spendthrift  and  gambler  of  the  deepest 
dye,  accompanied  by  dissipated  and  dissolute  habits, 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  give  up  the  splendid 
establishment  which  he  had  obtained  by  fraud,  rich  and 
costly  furniture,  magnificent  carriages,  all,  all  must  go, 
to  screen  him  from  justice. 

"  Then  the  guilty  man  left  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  the 
son  which  should  have  been  a  father's  pride  and  glory, 
'  and  sought  on  a  foreign  shore  the  home  of  his  nativity, 
which  he  had  disgraced  and  deserted  in  former  years. 

"  Mira,  with  a  broken  heart  and  blighted  anticipations, 
•  sought,  in  the  retired  cottage  of  Esquire  Grandby,  an 
asylum  from  the  keen  blasts  of  an  unpitying,  unfriendly 
world,  and  a  retreat  from  the  cold,  withering  gaze  of 
those  who  had  falsely  styled  themselves  friends  in  the 
days  of  her  happiness  and  prosperity. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      237 

"  But  her  pride,  her  ambition,  her  vanity  was  sub- 
dued to  the  very  dust,  and  she  returned  a  repentant, 
though  erring  child  to  the  home  of  her  childhood. 

" '  And  this  is  Frank  Deyton's  cottage,'  continued 
Lotty,  raising  her  beaming  eyes  with  a  proud  expression 
to  mine,  '  the  boy  of  high  resolves  and  the  man  of  great 
achievements.  • 

"  '  He  left  college  with  high  honors,  and  his  brow  was 
already  wreathed  with  -the  laurels  of  fame.  He  had 
planted  his  standard  on  high  ground,  and  it  has  never 
been  shaken  nor  deserted. 

" '  He  went  forth  into  the  broad  vineyard  of  his 
master  with  a  firm,  undaunted  heart  and  willing  hand, 
and  became  a  successful  and  faithful  preacher  of  the 
gospel.  And  I  am  his  happy  and  honored  wife,'  she 
said,  as  her  eyes  filled  with  the  soft  glittering  dew-drops 
of  happiness  which  welled  up  from  the  sunny  fountains 
of  her  love-lighted  heart. 

" '  We  often  visit  our  native  village,'  she  continued, 
'  and  Mira  Grandby  too,  but  no  word  of  condolence  or 
encouragement  can  ever  call  her.  back  to  life  and  hope  ; 
for  her  once  buoyant  heart  is  seared  and  broken,  and  the 
soul,  almost  in  the  spring-tide  of  life  and  youth,  is  sub- 
dued by  affliction. 

" '  She  no  longer  seeks,  with  unguarded  passion,  the 
wealth  and  honors  of  the  world,  nor  the  applause  and 
admiration  of  the  gay  and  fashionable.     And  often,  when 


238  EFFIEANDI. 

she  listens  to  the  touching  and  deep-toned  eloquence  of 
the  handsome  and  dignified  Frank  Dayton,  her  heart 
reproaches  her  for  ever  becoming  a  vain  and  heartless 
votary  of  fashion.' " 

" '  Served  her  right,  Lotty,'  I  said,  '  for  despising  a 
true  heart,  a  factory  girl,  a  cotton  mill,  and  country 
home ;  because,  forsooth,  they  did  not  have  on  a  gilded 
mask  of  bufibonery  and  hypocrisy  and  all  that  sort  of 
foolery. 

""'  I  tell  you  what,  Lotty,  if  the  wife-hunters  only 
knew  which  side  their  bread  had  the  butter  on,  they 
would  take  an  honest-hearted  factory-girl  to  rule  over 
their  little  republic,  instead  of  the  fashionable  apes,  .and 
popinjays,  and  would-be  butterflies  who  flit  here  and 
there  and  everywhere,  for  adulation  and  ease. 

" '  The  great  wheel  of  a  cotton  mill  turns  out  some 
rare  specimens  of  perfection  in  that  hne  ;  and,  if  I  was  a 
man  in  search  of  a  wife,  I  would  travel  further  than 
Jacob  did  for  Rachel,  and  work  harder  too,  to  buy  her ; 
and  then  I  should  think  I  had  got  the  best  end  of  the 
bargain.  And  I  know  that  Frank  Deyton  will  set  his 
seal  to  this  truthful  assertion.' " 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

KATE     ON    AN    EXPLORING    EXPEDITION.  —  SHE    MAKES    A   DIS- 
COVERY.  HER    SIGNS    OF    A    GOOD    HUSBAND. 

«  nr\  HERE,"   said  Kate,  yawningly,  "  I  have  got 
J-    through  with  my  stories  at   last,  sentimentalism 
and  all.     I  like  llottj  and  Helen,  but  the  sentimental 
and  I  are  at  sword's  point. 

"  Why,  I  would  no  more  marry  a  man  that  I  thouglit 
was  spiced  up  with  that  sort  of  stuff,  than  I  would  marry 
a  Shampeaceso  cannibal.  I  like  good,  substantial  com- 
mon sense,  whether  in  man  or  beast ;  but  the  sentimental, 
oh,  I  never  could  tune  my  harp  of  a  thousand  strings  to 
the  vibration  of  those  crotchets  and  quavers  and  solos, 
and  all  that.  Kate  Stanton  will  never  make  her  debut 
into  the  '  world  as  it  is,'  to  the  time  of  any  of  that  sort  of 
music;  but — what  is  this,  Rosa?"  she  asked,  draw- 
ing rather  ungraciously  toward  her  a  huge  basket  filled 
with  heavy  brogans,  upon  which  I  had  been  employed 
through  her  interesting  recital. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  use  those  little  delicate  fingers 
of  yours'  Rosa  ?    Why,  I  never  thoiight  they  were  fit  for 


240  EFFIE    AND    Ij     OR, 

anj  thing  but  to  write  poetry,  paint  on  velvet,  thread  a 
shuttle,  and  tie  a  weaver's  knot  in  that  threefold  cord 
which  is  not  easily  broken. 

"  And  I  did  not  suppose  that  you  was  so  much  of  an 
abolitionist  either,  as  to  devote  so  much  of  your  precious 
time  for  the  benefit  of  the  understanding  and  soles  of 
those  unfortunates  who  are  held  in  durance  vile,  waiting 
for  the  bow  of  promise  to  span  their  dark  horizon." 

"  Don't,  Kate,  joke  upon  such  serious  subjects." 
"  Joke  ?  No,  no  Rosa  ;  when  I  get  my  '  World '  started, 
I  mean  to  snap  some  of  their  manacles,  or  man-kiiuckles, 
and  I  shan't  use  a  lather-brush,  nor  soft  soap  about  it, 
either. 

"  I  intend  to  be  Kate  Stanton,  out-and-out,  in  that 
little  globe  of  my  own  creating,  to  do  and  say  just  what 
I  please,  or  rather  just  what  I  think  is  right,  and  for  the 
best  good  of  all  concerned. 

"  I  shan't  sneak  round  any  high  places,  nor  low  places, 
nor  dark  places,  nor  ogre's  dens,  nor  any  other  dens ; 
but,  like  a  streak  of  lightning,  I  shall  go  right  through  the 
whole  mass  of  hypocrisy,  wrenching  away  the  cowls,  and 
masks,  and  sheep-skins,  and  golden  drapery  from  every 
blackheart,  and  blackleg,  and  long-eared  Neptunes,  just 
as  easily  as  the  lightning  strips  the  trembling  foliage 
from  a  swaying  sapling. 

"  I  told  you  long  ago  that  I  was  getting  my  lessons 
for  an  up-start,  and  that  I  should  take  the  whole  '  World ' 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  A  COTTON  MILL.   241 

for  a  circuit  too.  I  have  got  all  through  '  Lucy  Stone,' 
and  am  taking  a  degree  a  notch  higher. 

"  But  what's  this  ? "  she  said,  continuing  her  ex- 
ploring expedition  to  the  bottom  of  my  huge  work- 
basket. 

"Poetizing,  eh,  Rosa?  I  declare,  you  mean  to  im- 
mortalize your  name,  either  by  your  philanthropy,  or 
poetical  talents.  Let  me  see,  —  here  is  a  poem  of  con- 
dolence to  the  "  Sable  Slave,"  the  "  Soldier's  Burial," 
"  The  Happy  Past,"  and  "  The  Time  to  Pray."  And 
she  went  on  reading,  notwithstanding  my  earnest  re- 
monstrances to  the  contrary  : 

Oh,  'tis  a  time,  sweet  time  to  pray, 

And  steaL  away  from  earthly  care, , 
When  daylight  softly  fades  away, 

And  no  intruding  voice  comes  near ; 
For  then  the  heart  and  tioul  combine 
In  truth,  to  worship  God  divine. 

It  is  a  sacred  time  to  pray. 
When  chime  the  pealing  Sabbath  bells, 

For  then  we  cast  earth's  care  away, 
And  in  our  hearts,  devotion  swells 

To  Him,  who's  kindly  to  us  given 

One  day  of  sacred  rest  in  heaven. 

It  is  a  time,  fit  time  to  pray. 

When  o'er  our  path  the  tempter  steals, 
With  winning  smile,  to  lead  astray 
From  Him,  who  all  our  weakness  feels  ; 
21 


242  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR^ 

For  then  the  faithful  prayer  is  sure 
To  give  us  strength,  in  grace  secure. 

It  is  a  time  in  truth  to  pray, 
And  wake  to  life  from  slumbering  deep, 

When  round  us  foes  in  dread  array 
Their  dark,  designing  vigils  keep  ; 

For  then  no  evil  can  come  near 

The  soul  whose  weapoi^ure  is  prayer. 

It  is  a  holy  time  to  pray. 
When  those  we  love  are  chill  in  death  ; 

When  swift  the  soul  passeth  away 
From  the  cold  form  devoid  of  breath ; 

For  then,  by  prayer  and  faith  alone, 

Submission  to  Grod's  will  we  own. 

It  is  a  time  e'en  pure  to  pray. 

When  all  of  earth  looks  dark  and  drear, 

When  fortune's  smiles  are  turned  away. 
And  adverse  clouds  are  hovering  near ; 

For  prayer  will  give  us  strength  indeed. 

And  grace  sufficient  in  all  need.  • 

It  is  a  time  in  youth  to  pray. 

When  hope  and  joy  serenely  flow ; 
It  is  a  time  in  age's  decay, 

In  sickness,  health,  in  weal  and  wo ; 
And  oh !  the  heart's  best  time  to  pray 
Is  always,  and  unceasingly. 

"  Now,  Rbsa,"  said  Kate,  as  she  concluded  a  perusal 
of  the  lines,*  "  tell  me  what  all  this  means. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      243 

# 

"  A  huge  basket  of  brogans,  heavy  enough  to  tear 
your  vitals  out,  upon  which  you  are  working  as  though 
your  life  depended  upon  an  immediate  accomplishment ; 
and  stowed  away  at  the  bottom,  line  after  line,  convulsed 
with  the  very  life-throes  of  a  breaking  heart. 

"  Rosa,  has  a  few  years  of  wedded  life  worn  thread- 
bare the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  your  bridal  robe  ? 

"  Have  the  joys,  which  sprung  up  with  your  sunlight 
of  connubial  bliss,  been  blasted  by  the  withering  mildew 
blight  of  coldness  and  neglect  ? 

"  Has  Walter  turned  away  from  the  priceless  gem 
of  a  true  and  faithful  love  for  the  glittering  fascina- 
tions   " 

"  Oh,  no,  .no,  dear  Kate,"  I  answered  ;  "  you  know 
that  my  former  bereavements  have  saddened  my  heart, 
and  I  have  laid  two  darling  babes,  in  their  infantile 
beauty,  to  rest  beneath  the  cold  dark  turf;  and  my  heart 
is  sad  and  wellnigh  broken  by  such  heavy  bereavements. 
But  Walter " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see  how  it  is,  Rosa ;  a  woman's  heart 
never  dies,  when  her  husband's  love  burns  down,  down, 
into  its  inmost  depths,  bright  and  true  as  the  magnet  to 
the  pole,  as  the  sunlight  to  the  wave. 

"  When  I  see  a  woman  whose  heart  is  not  all  aglow 
with  life  and  hope  and  love,  then  I  know  that  the  true, 
warm,  life-giving  rays  of  her  husband's  love  are  shrouded 
in  the  dark  clouds  of  neglect,  or  turned  away  to  revel 
amidst  the  more  voluptuous  folds  of  gaudier  flowers. 


244  EFFIEANDi;     OR, 

• 

"  You  may  as  well  confess  to  me,  Rosa,"  she  said, 
with  provoking  pertinacity,  "  for  I'll  never  budge  an 
inch  until  I  know  all  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  these 
dying  heart-throes." 

"  0  Kate,  don't  press  me  too  hard,"  I  said,  as  I  laid 
my  head  upon  her  friendly  shoulder,  and  soothed  the 
agitations  of  my  heart,  and  cooled  the  burning  lava  of 
my  brain  by  a  flood  of  friendly  tears. 

"  Rosa  !  "  whispered  Kate,  "  I  never  told  you  before, 
but  I  never  did  like  Walter  any  better  than  I  did  Effie's 
wicked  Wilton. 

"  I  think  he's  a  perfect  Behemoth,  and  how  in  the 
world  you  could  exchange  good  old  No.  10  for  only  the 
cipher  (0)  is  more  than  I  can  imagine. 

"  Oh  yes,  he  understands  putting  on  airs  well  enough, 
I  know ;  but  it  is  just  for  the  very  reason  that  he  is 
composed  of  no  more  substantial  substance  than  air — 
and  foul  at  that. 

"  Well,  now,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is,  that  I  shall 
put  a  veto  upon  your  wearing  your  life  out  over  those 
odious  brogans,  just  for  the  sake  of  supplying  him 
with  a  little  pocket-money  for  the  benefit  of  his  gaudy 
flowers. 

"  And  you  must  go  back  i0  the  Spindle  City,  and 
mingle  once  more  amongst  the  scenes  of  your  girlhood, 
and  forget  or  overcome  the  sorrows  and  neglect  of  these 
few  brief  years. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.     245 

"  Come,  Rosa  dear,  make  an  effort  to  that  effect ;  and, 
■perhaps,  the  wholesome  religious  discipline  and  superior 
advantages  of  that  goodly  city  may  induce  him  to  ¥e- 
form. 

"  And  although  sister  Sarah  and  her  Green  Mountain 
boy  have  emigrated  to  a  new  field  of  labor  in  the  far 
West,  yet  there  are  many  left  who  will  remember  him  in 
their  prayers  the  '  next  class  night.'  And  perhaps  ere 
long  he  will  return  to  you,  as  the  prodigal  son  did  to 
his  father,  in  rags  it  may  be,  but  in  penitence  and 
tears." 

21* 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

ROSA   BACK   AGAIN    TO    THE    8P1KDLB    CITY. 

I  WAS  LONELY,  very  lonely,  in  that  little, 
strange,  out  of  the  way  village.  I  missed  my  asso- 
ciates, the  old,  familiar,  and  kindly  faces  which  ever 
wore  for  me  a  smile  of  friendly  greeting. 

I  missed  the  Sabbath  bell  and  the  church  where  I 
was  wont  to  worship. 

I  missed  the  pearls  and  gems  of  inspiration  which 
fell  from  our  pastor's  lips,  like  a  halo  of  living  light  upon 
a  rapt  and  listening  assembly. 

I  missed  the  weekly  class,  where  our  faithful  leader 
pointed  us  encouragingly  on,  on  and  upward  to  the 
victor's  prize,  the  golden  gates,  the  crowns,  the  palms, 
the  harps  of  gold,  the  angel  band,  the  tree  of  life,  the 
blood-washed  throng,  who  through  much  tribulation  ^ad 
scaled  the  pearly  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  and 
gained  a  resting-place  at  last,  to  swell  the  loud  an- 
thems and  hosannas  to  God  and  the  Lamb  for  ever  and 
ever. 

I  missed  the  ingatherings  of  dimpled  cheeks  and 
youthful  faces  to  the  Sabbath  School. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COXTON    MILL.      247 

I  missed  the  low  murmurings  and  happy  intonations 
of  childish  voices,  the  chiming  and  blending  of  mellow 
tones  in  the  simple  song. 

I  missed  the  sympathy  of  true  hearts,  and  oh !  I 
missed  a  motherly  bosom  to  weep  upon.  Aye,  weep  out 
my  bitter  heart-anguish. 

And  so  I  came  back  again.  And  oh !  how  happy  I 
did  feel,  when  the  first  night  I  laid  my  head  upon  my 
own  pillow  in  this  Spindle  City,  and  heard  the  old 
familiar  chimes  of  the  factory  bells,  booming  through  the 
air,  with  peal  after  peal  of  merry  music.  Yes,  it  was 
music,  and  vibrated  joyously  upon  the  saddened  tendrils 
of  my  desolate  heart. 

I  was  back  again  ;  yes,  back  again  amidst  the  hurry 
and  bustle,  the  din  and  clatter,  of  this  busy  Spindle  City. 
Welcome  smiles  and  kindly  greetings  met  me  on  every 
hand ;  and  once  more  my  heart  throbbed  wildly  with 
the  hopeful  anticipations  of  a  happy  future.  Alas !  how 
transitory  !  Walter's  depraved  mind  led  him  naturally 
enough  to  seek  low  employment  and  low  associates.  And 
instead  of  going  with  the  multitude  to  the  house  of  God, 
on  the  holy  Sabbath,  he  sought  the  society  of  those  who 
congregated  in  low  bar-rooms  apd  dens  of  infamy. 

He  spurned  religion,  and  reviled  its  humble  votaries 
and  the  worshippers  of  a  true  and  living  God,  and  even 
defied  the  just  retribution  pronounced  upon  the  guilty 
transgressors.     His  course  was  a  downward  one ;  striv- 


248  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

ing  even  to  drag  me  with  him  to  the  dark  depths  of 
perdition. 

But  my  faith,  hke  the  mariner's  heavy  anchor  in  the 
storm-girt  billow,  was  firmly  fixed  upon  the  God  whom 
my  mother  delighted  to  honor. 

But  why  proceed  ;  a  volume  could  not  contain  the 
scenes  of  anguish  through  which  I  have  struggled  since 
then,  even  if  there  was  power  in  language  for  expression 
and  recital. 

For  none  but  the  great  Infinite  can  comprehend  the 
anguish  of  a  deserted  wife  ;  and,  accompanied  with  that 
desertion,  the  sufierings  of  cold  and  hunger,  enfeebled 
health,  a  broken  heart,  and  the  sick  meanings  of  a  suffer- 
ing, dependent,  and  helpless  chUd. 

Greater  woe  can  no  man  bring  upon  a  true  and  faith- 
ful wife  than  such  cruel  and  heartless  desertion.  And 
no  greater  retribution  follows  in  the  path  of  the  trans- 
gressor than  that  which,  like  the  heavy  mill-stone,  grinds 
to  powder  those  who  are  guilty  of  such  cruel  desertion. 

I  know  that  retribution  is  poised  fearfully  over  him 
and  his  vile  accomplices ;  and  when  it  falls,  as  fall  it 
must,  their  sufferings  will  be  tenfold  those  which  they 
have  wrought  upon  their  innocent  victims. 

Kate  Stanton  says  that  he  does  not  deserve  even  the 
scratch  of  my  pen ;  but  she  shall  give  him  some  black 
marks  in  her  "  "World,"  which  will  be  a  caution  to  all 
truant  husbands  and  deserters,  their  accomphces,  Moll 
Pitchers,  and  all. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      249 

So  here  I  am,  Mrs.  Allstone,  notwithstanding  all  my 
sufferings,  desertions,  and  anguish.  My  heart  seems 
bound,  as  with  a  threefold  cord,  to  the  familiar  scenes 
and  associations  of  other  days. 

Yes,  this  same  Spindle  City,  which  you  so  mercilessly 
deprecate,  is  the  only  remaining  link  which  hinds  me  to 
the  happy  past,  the  serene  joys  of  my  girlhood,  and  the 
pleasant  associations  and  vocations  of  the  cotton  mill. 

And  now,  after  repeating  to  you  one  more  little  poem 
which  I  penned  a  few  Sabhaths  after  my  return  to 
Lowell,  I  will  bid  you  adieu,  hoping  that  you  will  never 
find  in  your  travels  a  more  degraded  or  unsympathizing 
people  than  those  which  compose  the  population  of  our 
goodly  Spindle  City.  • 

THE  SABBATH  BEL1» 

How  sweetly  chimes  the  Sabbath  bell 

Upon  the  morning  air, 
As  far  o'er  woodland,  hill  and  dell. 

It  tells  the  hour  of  prayer ! 
There's  music  in  its  varied  tones 

Of  thrilling  melody ; 
Now  floating  high  o'er  towering  domes,  9 

Now  fading  far  away. 

Sweet  messengers  —  I  love  them  well. 

As  softly  on  the  ear 
Those  joyous  peals  in  cadence  swell. 

Inviting  up  to  prayer  — 


250  EFFIE    AND    I. 

Where  heart  with  heart,  in  love  unite, 
Where  soul  with  soul  combine, 

In  faith  and  hope,  in  truth  and  might. 
To  worship  God  divine. 

Ho,  all  ye  weary  laden,  come  — 
This  day's  a  rest  for  thee ; 

Ye  poor  and  needy,  still  there's  room. 
The  feast  is  bounteous  —  free. 

Cast  off  the  chains  that  gird  thee  now. 
By  tyrant's  power  debased, 
0  Stand  forth  erect,  for  on  thy  brow 

•  Is  God's  own  irqage  traced. 

Oh,  come  then,  enter  at  the  door 

That  points  the  way  to  heaven  ; 
Where  tyrants  crushing  power  no  more 

•  Can  bind  the  spirit  riTen. 

The  chime  is  pealing  through  the  air. 
O'er  cot,  and  princely  dome  ; 

Then  hasten  to  the  house  of  prayer. 
For  still,  aye,  still  there's  room. 


.->«ya^g\gg/g^\>- 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

KATE  Stanton's  chbistmas.  —  aunt  heathebton's  letter. — 
effie's  bridal.  —  conclusion. 

"    A    VERY,   very  merry  Christmas,  Rosa !  "    said 
-jL\.    Kate  Stanton,  as  she  bounded,  in  her  wild,  glee- 
ful, rollicking  way  into  mv  cheerless  apartment,  on  that 
glorious  morn  of  all  morns.     "  A  merry  Christmas. 

"  Good  news  from  a  friend,  and  glad  tidings  of  great 
joy,  I  bring  you  to-day.  Here  is  a  whole  package  of 
what-not's,  Rosa,  from  good  ol^  Aunt  Heatherton, 
who  still  presides  with  graceful  dignity  over  her  ancient 
home  at  Willow  Dale. 

."She  has  often  told  me  of  Effie,  —  'dear  Effie,' 
as  she  calls  her ;  how  plump,  and  rosy,  and  handsome,  and 
happy  she  has  grown.  And  Httle  Charley,  —  so  wild, 
gleeful,  roguish,  and  loving  withal ;  and  how  indispensa- 
ble they  have  become  to  her  happiness,  and  of  many 
other  things  connected  with  Willow  Dale  and  the  old 
Hall,  she  has  kept  me  well  informed. 

"  And  I  have  answered  back  in  my  own  wild,  reckless, 
gleeful  way,  just  enough  to  keep  her  mind  at  ease  with 
the  information  that  they  had  not  yet  caught  me  napping 
in  a  lunatic  asylum. 


252  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

"  Five  years  have  passed  away  since  I  was  a  guest  at 
Heatherton  Hall ;  the  autumn  months  were  rapidly 
drawing  to  a  close,  while  the  hohdays  loomed  up  in  the 
perspective  with  crowds  of  gay  revellers,  feasts,  festi- 
vals, and  flirtations ;  heaux,  bridals,  and  bon-bons ; 
cards,  coaches,  and  carnivals ;  candy,  cakes,  and  cocoa- 
nuts  ;  rows,  riots,  and  rum  ;  and  many  other  knick- 
knacks  to  which  poor  human  nature  is  subject  to  succumb 
to.  And  I,  poor  old  maid,  a  little  weary  with  the 
'  World,'  sat  me  dreamily  down  before  the  glowing  grate, 
rocking  to  and  fro,  in  the  old  arm-chair,  which  I  had 
always  found  indispensable  in  my  hours  of  dreamy 
abstraction. 

"  I  had  just  drawn  my  little  table  to  my  side,  and 
opened  the  rose-woe^  box  upon  it,  my  aunt's  parting 
gift,  in  which  were  the  sketches  I  had  taken  of  my 
eastern  tour,  when  the  bell  gave  a  violent '  ding-dong, 
ding-o-ling-hng,'  and  a  moment  after  an  attendant  entered 
my  apartment  with  a  huge  package  of  letters,  which  she 
deposited  in  a  most  gracious  manner  upon  the  sketches 
I  had  opened  for  reperusal. 

"  Ha ! "  I  exclaimed,  as  my  eye  fell  upon  the  post- 
mark and  superscription.  "  Good  Aunt  Heatherton  has 
stolen  a  march  upon  her  mad-cap  niece  for  once  ;  and 
here  is  a  whole  bundle  of  happy  wishes,  Christmas  tokens, 
knick-knacks,  and  news  generally. 

"  And  now,  Rosa,  I  have  just  brought  it  over  for  you 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      253 

to  read,  and  after  that  you  can  tuck  it  into  one  corner 
of  your  '  Cotton  Mill,'  if  you  please. 

"  You  will  see  that  she  has  borrowed  the  stereotype, 
which  half  the  world  claims  by  lawful  possession,  in 
commencing  with  the  indispensable  — " 

"  My  dear  Kate,  —  We  are  all  astir  here  at  Wil- 
low Dale,  and  the  old  Hall  has  assumed  a  most  regal 
appearance  in  the  shape  of  satins,  laces,  flowers,  feathers, 
and  many  other  tit-bits,  indispensable  to  a  bridal  outfit. 

"  Don't  start,  dear  Kate,  nor  evaporate  into  a  state  of 
annihilated  nothingness  ;  nor  burst  through  your  basque 
buttons,  in  your  wild,  harum-scarum  mirthfulness. 

"  For  your  staid  old  aunt  has  no  idea  of  exchanging 
her  single-blessedness  for  a  life  of  matrimonial  monopoly, 
to  any  manoeuvring  fortune-hunter,  or  moon-struck 
mushroom,  anywhere  this  side  of  the  Shampeaceso  or 
Ahasuerus  territories.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  But  the  fact 
is,  you  remember  I  told  you  about  old  Judge  Homer  — 
peace  to  his  ashes  —  how  he  befriended  Effie's  parents, 
and  gave  them  Glen  Cottage,  when  he  took  them  away 
from  tesquire  Stoneheart's. 

"  And  you  remember  I  told  you  that  he  had  a  son 
who  paid  his  devoirs  to  the  adorable  Angelica,  and  then 
afterwards  married  a  beautiful  lady,  an  heiress,  and 
all  that. 

"  Well,  since  his  marriage,  he  has  lived  principally  in 

22 


254  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

a  distant  State,  only  now  and  then  spending  a  few  of  the 
summer  months  at  the  old  homestead,  till  lus  beautiful 
wife  sickened  and  died,  and  then,  with  his  two  lovely 
children,  he  removed  to  the  home  of  his  childhood,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  cheering  the  declining  days  of  his 
mother. 

"  One  year  ago  she  died  also,  and  left  the  old  home 
desolate  to  him  and  his  babes.  And  then,  with  his 
children,  he  began  to  take  excursions  and  rides  up  to 
"Willow  Dale ;  and  sometime^  he  would  stop  at  the  old 
Hall,  just  for  his  horse  to  take  a  breath  or  two,  and  his 
children  to  get  a  glass  of  milk,  or  strawberries  and 
cream,  or  a  bunch  of  flowers,  or  cherries  and  fruit. 

"  Sometimes  he  would  let  them  run  beneath  the 
willow  tree  with  little  Charley,  who  was  sure  to  take 
them  all  over  Willow  Dale,  into  the  sheep-pastures,  and 
frog-ponds,  and  a  score  of  other  places,  before  the  judge 
could  thmk  his  horse  suflSciently  rested  for  a  homeward 
trip. 

"  Sometimes  he  would  indulge  in  the  insane  idea  that 
my  dinners  were  the  best  in  the  world ;  just,  I  always 
thought,  for  a  plausible  excuse  to  prolong  his  visits  at  the 
old  Hall. 

"  And  then,  after  dinner,  he  would  wait  for  the  sun  to 
go  down  a  little,  to  make  it  pleasanter  riding  home  with 
the  children. 

"  One  day  he  began  talking  about  foreign  afl^irs, 
annexations,  South  Culling,  and  so  on. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      255 

"  He  said  he  thought  Miss  Cullina  had  better  come 
back  to  live  with  her  sisters  again,  and  be  happy,  and 
sort  o'  respectable-like  ;  for  he  said  that  she  belonged  to 
a  very  good  family,  a  family  that  made  quite  a  spec  in 
the  world. 

"  '  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  Mr.  Homer,'  I  said,  '  Miss  Cullina 
is  a  sort  of  an  ailer  or  alien-crutter,  and  if  she  gets  back 
into  the  family  again,  will  be  likely  to  give  the  infection 
of  her  terrible  disease  —  black  scars  and  all  —  to  some 
of  her  fair  sisters.  For  they  do  say  that  her  sickness 
is  wus  a  thousand  times  than  the  smallpox  or  black 
vomit.  Oh,  no,  no !  if  Cullina  has  bound  herself  out 
where  she  can  learn  to  work,  and  take  care  of  herself, 
she  had  better  stay  where  she  is.' 

"  But  he  spoke  very  feelin'-like  about  Miss  Cullina, 
and  said  if  she  was  a  httle  wild,  and  apt  to  cut  up  a  little, 
that  she  was  a  beautiful  creeture,  and  had  a  great  heart, 
for  he  had  seen  her,  and  felt  her  great  heart-throbs  when 
he  was  sick  and  a  stranger  away  from  his  own  home  ; 
and  how  that  she  wouldn't  take  one  picayune  for  all  her 
care  and  trouble,  but  laughed,  and  said  that  she  would 
do  the  same  again  for  any  of  her  sister's  children,  large 
as  the  family  was. 

"  I  told  him  that  she  had  taken  a  miff  about  a  party, 
or  some  such  an  affair,  got  up  by  Polly  Ticks  ;  and  just 
because  she  could  not  lead  off  in  the  dance,  and  make  all 
of  her  sisters  follow  arter,  that  she  flared  right  up,  and 
said  that  she  would  disown  them  all  and  her  birth-right 


256  EFFIE    AND    i;     OR, 

too,  and  would  go  right  straight  off  into  a  ferrin  land, 
and  take  a  house  all  to  herself,  and  then  she  would  see  if 
Polly  Ticks  would  have  any  thing  to  do  with  her  party. 

"I  have  heam.say  that  Polly  Ticks  is  a  dreadful 
hunsome  crutter,  and  don't  make  much  trouble  nor 
nothing,  but  she  kinder  wanted  to  carry  the  '  Bell '  in  that 
party,  and  so  she  and  Miss  Cullina  had  a  little  kick-up 
all  to  themselves  ;  and  the  ferrin  ministers  and  am- 
bassadors stood  a  laughing,  till  they  got  a  rail-splitter 
to  come  and  put  a  stop  to  it.  Cullina  kind  o'  sneaked 
off,  and  Polly  Ticks  has  not  been  able  to  get  out  since. 
They  say  that  that  rail-splitter  hurt  her  some. 

"  And  I  know  if  all  the  guns  had  balls  in  them  that 
they  fired  at  her,  that  they  must  have  hurt  her  dread- 
fully. 

"  They  say  that  that  rail-splitter  is  a  terrible  critter 
when  he  sets  out,  and  the  machine  that  he  uses,  is  wus 
than  bomb-shells  filled  with  horse-nails. 

"  He  didn't  seem  to  take  much  notice  of  what  I  was 
saying,  but  continued,  very  innocently  to  be  sure,  '  that 
he  Uked  domestic  annexations,  but  was  not  much  in  favor 
of  foreign  relations.' 

"  I  looked  at  him  rather  suspiciously  through  the 
points  of  my  cap  border,  although  I  knew  that  he  was  a 
judge,  and  the  son  of  a  judge,  and  ought  to  understand 
these  things. 

"  But  he  didn't  seem  to  notice  me  at  all,  for,  says  he, 
and  I  thought  rather  boldly  too,  — 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A     COTTON    MILL.      257 

"  '  Aunt  Heatherton  I  have  been  forming  a  plan  of 
annexation  which  suits  me  better  than  any  discussed  by 
the  public  at  the  present  time. 

"  '  I  mean  the  annexation  of  widowhood  to  a  state  of 
matrimony.  What  say  you,  Aunt  Heatherton  ?  Are  you 
willing  to  make  a  peaceful  resignation  of  Effie  ?  ' 

"  '  Effie  ! '  (audacious !)  but  I  didn't  tell  him  so,  for 
he  is  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  and  the  most  perfect 
specimen  of  humanity  that  you  ever  saw. 

"  But  I  sprang  .to  my  feet,  and  you  may  know  it 
didn't  take  long,  right  before  him,  and  says  I,  '  Judge 
Homer,  you  may  take  your  pick  out  of  my  best  yearlings, 
or  my  ducks,  or  chickens,  or  turkeys,  or  geese,  or  you 
may  have  the  pigs  that  Charley  has  fatted  from  my 

cream-cans  and  pea-beds,  but ,'  and  I  stopped  a 

moment  to  get  breath  enough  to  give  the  words  a  mean- 
ing emphasis, — but  Effie,  never !  '  Why,  Judge  Homer,' 
I  continued,  '  didn't  you  know  that  I  took  Effie  home  here 
when  she  hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world,  nor  a  shelter  either, 
but  the  cypress  trees  which  shade  the  graves  of  her 
kindred  ? ' 

"  And  I  said,  '  now,  Effie,  this  shall  be  thy  home  and 
my  home,  and  as  much  thine  as  mine,  and  little 
Charley's  too.  And  now  they  have  become  as  indis- 
pensable to  my  happiness  as  the  home  itself,  or  the 
flowers,  or  the  songs  of  the  summer  birds,  or  the  gor- 
geous sunbeams. 

22* 


258  EFFIEANDi;     OR, 

"  '  And  you  would  take  them  away  from  me,  and 
make  my  heart  and  home  desolate  again. 

^^ '  When  her  wicked  husband  died,  three  years  ago,  I 
thought  nobody  had  a  right  to  claim  her ;  and  so  I  kept 
loving  her  more  and  more,  and  I  knew  that  she  was 
happy,  and .  Oh,  no ;  I  don't  believe  in  annex- 
ations at  all,  Judge  Homer.  Culhna  is  well  enough 
where  she  is,  and  so  is  Effie.' 

"  The  judge  looked  as  though  he  would  rather  avoid  a 
battle  if  he  could,  although  I  could  |ee  that  he  was  de- 
termined upon  the  annexation,  even  if  he  had  to  storm 
the  whole  fortification. 

"  I  knew  that  I  couldn't  count  as  many  men  as  he 
could,  and  so  I  thought  it  would  be  better  to  compromise  a 
little,  even  if  he  did  annex  a  part  of  my  domains  to  his 
own  territory. 

"  Effie  came  in  just  then,  looking  very  demure  and 
very  happy,  and  I  —  went  out. 

"  Somehow,  the  comers  of  my  apron  became  a  nec- 
essary appendage  to  my  eyes  the  rest  of  the  afternoon ; 
and  after  that  I  let  things  take  their  own  way,  only  I 
said,  '  K  it  must  be  so,  that  the  wedding  should  be  cele- 
brated at  the  Hall.' 

"  And  they  all  said,  '  Yes,  it  should  be  as  Aunt 
Heatherton  said  about  that  part  of  the  arrangement.' 

"  You  can't  imagine  what  a  pyramid  of  finery,  and  it 
isn't  finery  either,  but  rich,  substantial  fixings,  he  has 
already  crowded  upon  her  acceptance,  for  her  bridal  gear. 


SEVEN    YEARS    IN    A    COTTON    MILL.      259 

"  And  I,  determined  not  to  be  outdone,  am  making 
arrangements  for  one  of  the  most  brilliant  feats  that  has 
ever  been  witnessed  at  Willow  Dale, 

"  I  know  that  the  sun  of  prosperity  has  now  'risen 
upon  Effie's  life-path ;  the  clouds  have  all  disappeared, 
and  she  will  find  safety  and  happiness  in  the  heart  and 
home  of  him  who  now  profiers  to  her  his  faithful  love 
and  protection. 

"  Charley  is  very  happy,  too,  that  he  is  going  to  have 
a  darUng  brother  and  sister  and  a  dear  papa. 

"  But  he  says,  '  that  he  shall  come  to  the  Hall,  oh,  so 
often,  to  see  aunty  dear ;  and  he  shall  take  her  down  to 
mamma's  other  home  ;  and  when  he  gets  to  be  a  man, 
he  will  come  and  live  at  the  Hall  with  his  sister,  to  take 
care  of  the  things  and  aunty  too.' 

"  Glen  Cottage  is  just  now  without  an  occupant ;  for 
she,  who  so  inhumanly  thrust  Effie  and  her  babe  out 
upon  the  cold  mercies  of  the  world,  is  herself  widowed 
and  penniless,  and  obliged  to  seek  the  aid  which  she  so 
tauntingly  proposed  to  her  in  her  hours  of  bitter  need 
and  desertion. 

"  Judge  Homer  says,  '  that  he  shall  purchase  Glen 
Cottage  for  a  present  to  his  Effie,  and  she  may  fit  it  up, 
as  her  own  taste  shall  dictate,  for  a  widow  and  orphans' 
home.' 

"  Effie  is  very  happy  and  very  grateful ;  and  she 
says„  '  there  is  not  another  man  in  all  the  world  so  good 
and  noble  as  Judge  Homer.' 


260  EFFIE    AND    I. 

"  You  recollect  I  told  you  that  Angelica  Stoneheart 
had  married,  and  removed  to  a  distant  city.  Her 
husband  proved  to  be  not  only  a  fortune-hunter,  but  a 
reckless  spendthrift. 

"  And  so,  after  a  few  years  of  miserable  suffering 
abroad,  she  has  returned  a  poor,  faded,  forlorn  creature, 
to  her  widowed  and  almost  penniless  mother,  to  die  or 
suffer  still  more  from  the  griping  hand  of  poverty,  which 
is  laid  heavily  and  surely  upon  them. 

"  For  when  her  father.  Esquire  Stoneheart,  died,  it 
was  proved  that  his  claims  to  wealth  were  utterly  null 
and  void. 

"  So  you  see  that  the  tables  turn,  once  in  a  while, 
without  the  artificial  aid  of  rapping  mediums.  And  that 
moneyed  wealth  is  not  a  sure  foundation  upon  which  to 
build  the  pyramids  of  hope  and  happiness,  nor  even  of 
true  greatness.  Neither  is  poverty  the  handmaid  of 
vice  and  degradation,  but  often  the  stepping-stone  to 
honor  and  genuine  nobility." 

"  Just  tell  them,  Rosa,  before  you  give  your  manu- 
script to  good  old  Mr.  Finis,  that  Kate  Stanton's 
'  World  as  it  is  '  will  soon  be  in  motion,  and  will  follow 
at  a  respectful  distance  your  '  Cotton  Mill.'  Then, 
Rosa,  won't  I  give  it  a  jog  the  right  way  ?  " 

To  be  answered  in  our  next 


LINES 

ADDRESSED   TO   MY   MOTHER    IN   HEAVEN. 


I'm  thinking  now  of  thee,  mother; 

I'm  thinking  now  of  thee, 
And  of  our  low-roofed  cottage  home. 

Beside  the  old  oak-tree. 
As  erst  it  stood  of  yore,  mother. 

Ere  death  had  entered  there. 
To  take  the  choicest  flower  away. 

That  bloomed  beneath  thy  care. 

I'm  thinking  how  thy  cheek,  mother. 

Grew  paler,  day  by  day ; 
How  fearful,  too,  thy  tearless  grief 

When  sister  passed  away. 
She  was  the  first  loved  child,  mother. 

Of  a  merry,  happy  band ; 
The  first  with  autumn  flowers,  away 

She  passed  to  the  spirit-land. 

I'm  thinking  of  the  night,  mother, 

When  thou  wert  dying  too ; 
We  dreamed  not  when  sweet  sister  died. 

Thou  wert  the  next  to  go. 
In  grief  I  pressed  thy  cold  white  lips. 

Which  gave  me  back  no  kiss. 
And  thought  my  heart  was  breaking  then. 

For  I  was  motherless. 

Then  how  we  wept  for  thee,  mother. 
Through  many  a  weary  day ; 

Our  home  was  drear  and  desolate  — 
Our  brothers  far  away  — 


274 

But  ere  a  twelvemonth  passed,  mother, 
That  we  had  mourned  for  thee  — 

One  died  within  a  stranger's  home, 
Another  on  the  sea. 

Then  how  I  wished  ('twas  wrong,  mother), 

That  I  was  with  the  dead  — 
For  hope's  bright  visions  charmed  no  more  - 

My  life's  sweet  dreams  had  fled ; 
For  Carro  grew  so  pale,  mother, 

So  lustrous  bright  her  eye  — 
The  oldest  that  was  left  us  then  — 

We  knew  she,  too,  must  die. 

And  80  one  winter's  day,  mother, 

She  plumed  her  pinions  free. 
And  soared  from  earth  away,  away, 

To  join  her  songs  with  thee. 
And  then  our  father  died,  mother, 

And  the  last  loved  brother  too. 
And  I  felt  that  God  was  hard  indeed. 

To  shroud  our  life's  morn  so. 

And  then  our  Lula  dear,  mother, 

With  the  dark  and  brilliant  eye. 
And  the  gentle,  blue-eyed  sister  mate, 

Were  the  next  and  last  to  die. 
They  are  all  in  heaven  now,  mother. 

They  are  all  in  heaven  with  thee  — 
Save  sister  Mary,  who  alone 

Remains  to  weep  with  me. 

I  have  felt  my  share  of  grief,  mother. 

And  there's  little  left  of  joy, 
Save  the  treasure  that  I  cherish  now  — 

My  laughing,  blue-eyed  boy. 
My  tears  are  flowing  fast,  mother, 

My  heart  is  throbbing  wild. 
For  there  are  none  to  love  me  so 

As  erst  you  loved  your  child. 


275 


LINES   ON   THE   DEATH    OF   SISTER   LULA. 

SiSTEK,  farewell,  the  last  fond  tie  is  riven, 
"Which  linked  thy  guileless  heart  with  things  of  earth  ; 

And  now  thy  spirit  long  since  winged  for  heaven. 
Has  claimed  with  sainted  ones  a  heavenly  birth. 

Sister,  farewell,  thy  loved  form  sweetly  slumbers 
Beneath  the  verdant  turf  of  beauteous  Spring, 

Where  songsters  breathe  their  wild  melodious  numbers, 
And  'neath  their  shades  a  requiem  for  thee  sing. 

Sister,  sleep  on :  I  would  not  wake  to  sorrow 

Thy  pure  and  sainted  spirit  from  its  rest, 
I  would  not  e'en  a  blissful  moment  boiTow 

From  thee,  enrobed  in  glory  with  the  blest. 

But  I  would  chant  with  thee  in  living  bowers 

The  lofty  anthems  of  thy  spuit-land ; 
And  roam  with  thee  'mongst  fair  ambrosial  flowers  — 

Where  youth  and  beauty  feel  no  withering  hand. 

Sleep  on  in  peace,  this  heart  with  angoish  riven, 
No  more  can  greet  thee  whom  I  loved  so  well ; 

'Till  I  have  gained  thy  far-off  blissful  haven, 
'Till  then,  sweet  sister,  —  loved  one,  —  fare  thee  well. 


276 


THE    SOLDIER^S    BURIAL. 

Far  away  from  his  home  in  his  manhood's  bloom, 
They  bear  him  all  silently  to  the  tomb ; 
Where  the  wild-flowers  blush,  and  the  zephyrs  chime 
His  requiem  plaints  in  a  southern  clime. 

Oh,  sadly  the  tones  on  the  soft  air  come, 
Of  the  mournful  fife,  and  the  muffled  drum ; 
But  sadder  the  hearts  of  that  gallant  band 
That  bear  him  to  rest  in  a  stranger's  land. 

His  shroud  is  the  banner  he  proudly  bore 
From  his  childhood's  home  and  his  native  shore, 
While  far  o'er  the  woodlands,  and  hill-tops,  and  dells. 
The  parting  salute  of  his  brave  clan  swells. 

They  have  gone  —  all  gone,  those  warriors  brave. 
With  measured  step  from  his  lonely  grave  ; 
But  the  tear-drops  are  sparkling  they  sorrowing  shed, 
Like  pearls  in  night's  drapery,  'circling  his  bed. 

The  willows,  like  sad  hearts,  o'er  broken  hopes  bend 
Their  shadows  with  those  of  the  dark  cypress  blend ; 
With  their  soft  sighing  voices,  and  wide,  solemn  wave, 
They  guard,  by  sweet  vigil,  the  soldier's  lone  grave. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


N0S^Sww6blE 


JQfvUMii'p 


hU  0 


ATE 


Ltz/f'/ 


IRECEIVED 


A     000  131  306     3 


:re. 


y  ■.■-.-•■'■  ;.'-•''  :'f\ 


'         >SiV>S>S>^ '-v  ■    -    ■ :  '  >\  U-   /i  .'    J-V '>) 


'X 


l/\o'      /;     I 


z'/ 


/  i. 


